Centauri Arrival: Rediscovering the Past
by P-DEX
Summary: 2219: With great effort, mankind has managed to survive through Earth's deadliest times. Now, a research mission to the Alpha Centauri system is about to reveal that United Nations Project Unity was indeed a success.
1. I The Anomaly

_This story is to be more of an AAR narrative. The general premise is that Earth managed to survive past 2060 and launch a research mission to Alpha Centauri nearly 160 years later in order to discover if humans are indeed capable of existing on an alien Earth world._

_The game I am basing this on will be crossover involving Galactic Civilizations 2: Twilight of the Arnor using the seven main Alpha Centauri factions (custom races can be created in the game). I am a fan of the whole Alpha Centauri genre, both games and books, and was always interested in taking the ground-based factions and hurl them out into space. I don't claim to be the know-it-all of Alpha Centauri. I just liked the sci-fi aspect of it._

_Thank you for reading. Comments welcome._

2219.3.26

Personal log entry

Callum F. Cook

Assistant Signals Officer

Research Vessel _Ganymede_

Day 541

_After nearly sixteen months on this drum, we should finally catch our first scans of the Alpha Centauri system tomorrow. Despite what scientists back home preach to the Committee, I remain skeptical of our finding anything of significance out here. Our xeno biologists and cartologists still insist the Centauri system is our best hope of finding another Earth-like planet. Unfortunately, my past dealings with certain SciCom representatives clouds my faith in their complete honesty. The feeling that some funding-starved Space Agency lobbyist had a thought and ran with it has hopefully not shaken my faith in the "Sykes" too much. _

_Over the past several days I have spent much of my free time reflecting on the historical significance of our mission, moreso the history before it. I've been digging through historical archives, the world that was mid-21st century Earth and the time of Project Unity - an inspirational, yet naive sobriquet for such a massive and dangerous undertaking. Obviously, most today find it impossible to imagine living in the society of 160 years ago, a world riven with such turmoil - such adversity - such ignorance. The "man-made apocalypse" mindset was so firmly entrenched in the human psyche back then. Extreme overpopulation, the blurring of national identities, natural resources literally being fought over, wars large and small, the repercussions of perceived moral disintegration...a world incomprehensible. _

_Desperation alone seemed to drive Earth governments into this all-or-nothing project - this "Noah's ark" to the stars. Nearly forty thousand people, chosen over a period of years, willingly submitting themselves to a mission that had more basis in hope than in science. But then, who could blame any one of them for believing their world, their entire existence, was teetering on the edge of perdition? With the safety of sixteen decades of history behind us, one can easily feel incredulous, horrified, even judgmental toward those people. With the stress humanity was under back then, it's ironic that war was not..._

Callum's voice was cut off as the soft tone of an electronic double-chime interrupted his dictation. He instinctively touched a backlit control button on his desk and the words on the thin, opaque display instantly turned into unreadable symbols. He muttered "Door," and a smaller display zoomed in, superimposed over his now cryptic journal.

An image quickly formed and the round, dark brown face of Assistant Science Officer Dr. Koushik Mitra appeared. Callum read his demeanor in an instant; a mild intensity clouding his features, eyebrows pinched ever so slightly, jaw set a bit tighter than was usual. Clearly, he seemed to have something interesting to tell him. At least Koushik thought so. He could get a little too excited sometimes, even over the most mundane discoveries. But his passion and work ethic had infected the other scientists just enough to keep them sane during this long voyage.

"Enter," Callum said with a tired sigh.

The door glided open and Koushik quickly propelled himself into Callum's small quarters, his left shoulder nearly colliding with the opening door. Four quick strides and he was standing directly in front of Callum's desk, never once acknowledging Callum or asking to be seated. His intense face peered at his portable display pad, right hand randomly tapping keys as he sifted through information.

Callum leaned back in his chair and watched him. He watched him for a whole minute. And Koushik continued dissecting his data, seemingly oblivious.

Moving as if to stand, Callum finally said, "Well, if that's all you have for me Koushik, I'd like to get back to my..."

"I've run this at least a dozen times," Koushik said in a soft voice. "Obviously something different, but it doesn't make sense. I made Vaughn run a complete diagnostic on my station and everything was fine. Not a tangle in the system. Cross referenced my compilations with Dr. McKibben's data from yesterday...there is something different about it. It's just...I can't..." His voice trailed off, exasperation punctuated by a sharp exhale.

Callum slowly settled back into his chair. "Well, no offense Koushik but you are the Science Officer's right hand man. I fail to see where any problems you are having...I mean, how could you expect me to be of any help to you? If that's what you're implying?"

"Indeed that is what I'm implying. And I take no offense," Koushik answered, never looking up. "As long as you take no offense to the fact that this impromptu meeting of ours means that I have exhausted all other options."

"I understand. No offense taken," Callum nervously chuckled, trying to force a bit of levity into the somber air. "Doctor," he finally said, "would it be possible for me to observe what you're working on there? I feel I could be of greater assistance if I were more - involved.

" Koushik's demeanor changed and he immediately became more human. "Of course, of course," he said, reaching over to a corner of the room and rolling a low chair over to Callum's desk, opposite him. "I'm sorry, Callum. You know what I turn into when I run into an unexplainable discovery. I am as the vampire needing blood to drink. Is your terminal still on?" Callum indicated that it was. "Have a look at this."

Koushik touched a button on his PDP, waited for a moment, then removed a clear, elongated cube attached to the side of his display. He reached over and placed it into a recessed area on Callum's desk, the same width and dimension as the cube. The image on Callum's terminal bounced slightly then transformed into a duplicate image of Koushik's PDP display.

"This area here -" Koushik emphasized the point by circling it on his display, which simultaneously appeared on Callum's terminal - "is my current conundrum. As you know, one of our many methods of data acquisition on the space ahead and around the path of the ship is by radiating a low yield E-field at a constant rate in all directions...'white noise' if you will, to uncover ultra-high EM spectrum frequencies different from the anomalies we have logged so far."

Callum stared at his screen, absorbing what he was seeing, eyes narrowed in concentration. "From my analysis of this anomaly," Koushik continued, "it appears to be some kind of fusion reaction. A very highly localized fusion-based discharge."

Callum looked up from his terminal, eyeing Koushik with a distinct lack of surprise. "I'm no expert on what you do, Doctor, but I do know localized fusion deposits are far from spectacular in space. It's like someone throwing a handful of gravel at you. You're guaranteed to get hit by some of it."

"Yes, yes," Koushik excitedly answered, abruptly straightening in his chair, his enthusiasm making him instantly appear younger. "But those fusion deposits can be explained by spacial correlations, the activity of the stars around them..."

Koushik clenched his mouth tightly and glanced down. As usual, he was over-explaining things. He started again, the words coming at a slower, more thoughtful pace. "This fusion anomaly is not necessarily unique in it's makeup, at least none that I can detect, but in its _location._"

"Where is it located exactly?" Callum asked.

Koushik made a few taps on his PDP and Callum's display morphed into a realtime starmap. The display zoomed in to the binary star system of Alpha Centauri, then closer still until a replica of the _Ganymede_ herself appeared in the center of the screen, pulsating slightly. Koushik moved the starmap a bit, a portion of Alpha Centauri's "Earth" planet Chiron just visible on the left of the screen, the _Ganymede_ near the right edge. Koushik's problematic fusion anomaly, still circled, hovered near the middle. "It's ten hours head of us, about twenty-three degrees above the solar plane," Koushik finished.

Indeed it was odd. Not completely out of the realm of possibilities, but definitely a rare find. As Callum zoomed in on the area in question, the image shifted to the left of the screen and Koushik's calculations appeared on the right, slowly scrolling upwards. Callum pondered them as they moved. "Yes. Yes, I see what you mean here," he said after a time. "But again, Koushik, I can offer you little more but confirmation of your findings."

"I believe you could offer me more. You are well established as one of the brightest cryptanalysts on the ship. I was hoping you could run these calculations through that wave analyzer program you created..."

"...and come up with a waveform schematic," Callum finished. It wasn't the first time one of the eggheads on the _Ganymede_ wanted to use his prototype software to substantiate one of their unexplainable discoveries. And every time Callum ran their data through the program they remained unexplainable. The scientists tended to give it more problem-solving power than it actually had. But it did give Callum a sense of pride and, though he would never admit it to anyone, a mild ego boost.

"I'm flattered, Doctor, and thank you for your confidence but I have strong doubts as to whether MicroWave will be able to formulate an accurate simulation. It's still very much a work in progress."

Koushik leaned back in his chair thoughtfully stroking his chin. "I see," he said. "So, you believe this to be a waste of time then?

"Callum gave Koushik a doleful look. "No, Koushik, I'm just saying that I don't believe my programming hobby will give you the answers you seek - and I'd never insinuate your work to be a waste of time. You know that."

Mentally kicking himself again Koushik looked down, shoulders slumped. "I know. I know this well." Koushik was often troubled by his inability to grasp the subtleties of etiquette. His mentor at the University of Oxford had often joked that Koushik would eventually become a great scientist, but he would forever be an awful diplomat.

After an extended silence, Callum finally let out a long, defeated sigh. "All right, Koushik. It does appear this anomaly of yours may be...unique enough to warrant a little more study."

He straightened himself and scooted his chair up closer to his terminal, arms laid on either side. "I'll give you three hours, no more. Some of us actually enjoy sleeping, you know. I'll run it through my program and see if there's anything worth mentioning. I'll transmit all my findings to you by 0230. Will that be sufficient?"

Koushik stood up so quickly his chair rolled back until it softly struck the bulkhead. His dampened spirits instantly soared back to their usual childlike exuberance. "Of course, of course! Three hours is more than I could ever have expected. Thank you, Callum. Thank you so very much! I won't forget this. Never, ever forget it!" He leaned over the table, grabbed Callum's hand and shook it forcefully, causing the bones in Callum's arm to pop slightly. Callum smiled despite himself and shook his head.

"Will you be awake in three hours?" he said as Koushik began to exit the room.

"Of course!" he exclaimed. "You know I rarely sleep. There is so much to discover!"

If Callum had a coin for every time Koushik had uttered that phrase...


	2. II Overachiever

_Rated 'T' for mild language_

Hypothesis, research, discovery, breakthroughs, truth; the intricate beauty of the scientific method; extrapolation and experimentation - concepts that flowed through Dr. Koushik Mitra's being (soul, if he believed in such a thing). As sure and corporal as the blood that ran through his veins. Unlike some of his contemporaries, Koushik did not strive to discover the scientific portal that led to immortality. To him, it was an irrelevancy which indicated an ending, a finality which he was convinced neither existed nor could be achieved. There was no absolute, no Omega. Only beautiful, delightful discovery. Discoveries confirmed facts, which lead to truth, which revealed concrete existence. But there could never be totality.

Koushik had bumped heads with many colleagues over the years who were not comfortable in his belief of discovery without end - "expiscor infinitus" someone had dubbed it. Many of his peers had been angered when he answered these accusations with a gracious acknowledgment of their perspective, respect of their hypothesis, and a polite invitation to prove to him otherwise. He knew it was a weak counter-argument, though it seemed to play well in the press.

Koushik's rebuttal was taken personally by those in his field with fragile egos. Some even thought it was Koushik who was narrow-minded, unnerved as they were by the confidence and surety of his beliefs. It was probably the main reason why Koushik was assistant to Chief Science Officer Dr. Rhona McKibben and not the Chief Science Officer himself.

But Koushik never dwelled on his personal status very long. There was too much to be done. And by the time he had walked through the darkened, curved corridor back to his workstation on the research bridge, all thoughts of his personality shortcomings had evaporated from his mind.

His main terminal and a trio of smaller displays immediately lit up the moment Koushik sat in his chair. A brief flicker of color and the main terminal display quickly found it's way to the exact point Koushik had left off - his troublesome fusion anomaly. Colors and images flickered and moved across Koushik's face as he sorted though the data stream.

He had no idea why he was doing this again. He had crunched this data at least two dozen times and he continued to hit the same brick wall. _Let it go, Koushik. Let it go_, he said to himself. _It's up to Callum now_.

He paused, pursing his lips in thought, then tapped a few buttons. A long list of projects appeared on the display and he began scrolling through them. He selected a heading titled _CASSI: Chiron Atmospheric Study of Solar Interactions_, a future joint research project he and Dr. McKibben were planning to begin once (or if) they established a foothold on Chiron. He exhaled, cleared his mind, and began inputting equations, hands dancing over his displays as if he were conducting a silent orchestra. He did this for about five minutes before Dr. McKibben interrupted him.

"Dr. Mitra, why are you still working?" Her clear voice echoed slightly in the darkened, empty bridge causing him to jump slightly. "I ordered you to get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow and I'm going to need all my people in top form."

He was turned towards her now, trying to fight the urge to glance away from her and back to his screens. Dr. McKibben's face and upper body glowed in the glare of Koushik's terminal. Her officer tunic was unbuttoned and hanging limp on her shoulders, a white undershirt showing through, her slightly gray hair pulled up in a ponytail. She wore loose fitting pants of a light material and a pair of flat, gray slippers. It was obvious she had been sleeping.

"Yes, ma'am. Yes ma'am, you did. Work relaxes me, Doctor," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Well, your working doesn't relax me. Especially tonight," she said firmly, but in a tone that lacked bite; a familial tone of two people who had worked countless hours together. "I've got all of the SciOp terminals rigged so I know if anyone's in here working instead of resting. And I won't have my Number One performing at anything less than one hundred percent."

She smirked, waving an arm in a grand gesture. "We're making history tomorrow, you know. Foundations will be started in our honor. Speech invitations by the dozens. Babies and college campus buildings named after us."

Koushik smiled. "As long as I am able to continue researching, I'll be happy."

"Overachiever," she muttered, shaking her head.

She looked past Koushik to his terminal and the CASSI project he was working on. Her voice raised an octave.

"Jesus, Koushik, are you working on CASSI probe formulas? CASSI is still just a _proposal_, not a project!" She threw up her hands and growled in frustration. "All right. That's it. Get the hell out of here."

Koushik hesitated. "I mean _now_, Doctor!" she exclaimed. "When you begin working on projects that aren't even projects yet, it's time to take a break."

More hesitation. "Beat it! I'm serious!" She sharply gestured to one of the bridge exits. Koushik began to rise and his terminals began shutting down. Apparently not moving fast enough, an exasperated McKibben firmly grabbed his arm and forced him out of the way. She hovered over his terminal and her fingers stabbed at his keypad. "I'm locking you out until the morning, so don't try sneaking back in here after I'm gone."

She stopped long enough to point a finger at him, emphasizing each word with a short jab. "Get...some..._sleep!_"


	3. III Insomnia & Discovery

Koushik couldn't sleep. Dr. McKibben was right, of course. He desperately needed the rest. He had been awake and working for nearly thirty hours now and he needed to allow his body to take control of his mind instead of the opposite. After entering his spartan quarters, he sat on his sleeping cot for a few minutes staring at the floor. His mind continued running experiments, forming questions, sorting data.

He shook his head in frustration, trying to staunch the flow. He got up, quickly threw off his clothes and took a long, hot shower. Other than rinsing thirty hours of filth off his body, the shower did little to quiet his mind. After finishing, he returned to his cot and sat there again, naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist. His empty gaze returned to the bare floor. Again his mind became excited.

_Damn._

After sitting there for an undetermined amount of time, he absently rubbed his chin and realized he had the beginnings of a beard - something else he had forgotten to do. Somewhat grateful for another chance to distract his active mind, he walked back to the bathroom and began to shave. He shaved slowly, methodically, staring blankly at his reflection in the small mirror. After a too brief amount of time, his mind again became clouded with formulas and figures. He quickly finished up, tossed the used face towel into a corner, and put on his sleeping garments.

He slowly sat on his cot and just as he began to swing his feet up from the floor he paused. His eyes focused on his terminal at the opposite end of the room, reacting as if seeing it for the first time.

He stood up and began slowly walking toward it, unconsciously picking up his bare feet so they would not make noise as they slid across the metal floor, as if the terminal would be aware of his presence and stubbornly refuse to work the moment Koushik touched it.

The terminal came to life when he sat in his chair. Koushik's eyes darted to the entrance to his quarters, half-believing Dr. McKibben would burst in and verbally assault him the moment he tried to access the databse. When it became clear this fantasy would not materialize, Koushik tapped the keys that would connect him to his terminal on the research bridge. Dr. McKibben said she did not want him working on the bridge, so maybe he could work here instead.

But the log in process was the only thing the computer would let him do. The moment he attempted to enter the science database, the screen abruptly went dark. The terminal emitted a brief buzzing sound and a computer voice said, _**"Entry denied for...Dr. Mitra, Koushik, assistant science officer. Terminal locked by authorization...Dr. McKibben, Rhona, chief science officer. Please consult with...Dr. McKibben...to regain access to science database. Thank you."**_

_Bloody hell! _

The defeated Koushik slumped in his chair as the terminal continued reminding him that he had been outsmarted by Dr. McKibben. She knew him so very well. Of course, Koushik wasn't that hard to read, so predictably single-minded he was. Koushik's hardened face began to soften, then he began to chuckle.

He stood up, the computer stopped mocking him, and he rolled into his cot. As he lay there, Koushik realized his mind was quiet now. It had been a long time since his mind was this still. He wondered if he should dissect the circumstances that led to this rare event but decided against it for fear of re-awakening the scientific beast within him.

He said aloud, "Sleep. Music." The lights in his quarters immediately dimmed to near complete darkness and the music of Mozart began filling the room.

A low, rhythmic thumping brought Koushik out of his deep sleep. At the edge of his consciousness, his mind reasoned the noise was either an FTL reactor spike or the footfalls of someone running down the corridor. He thought he heard a muffled "Koushik."

The room was quiet again. Koushik decided he was hearing things. But a moment later the intermittent thumping returned, clearer this time, followed by the loud whispering of, "Koushik! It's Callum! Are you in there?"

Koushik sat up in his cot well before his mind had registered what he had done. The darkened room made focusing difficult and he uttered "Lights, half," brightening the room enough to chase off the vertigo. He uttered another command and Mozart fell silent.

Outside the door, Callum noticed the quieting of the music and said in a much louder voice, "Koushik! Open up! I've got to show you something. You aren't going to believe it!"

Koushik covered the distance to the door in three haphazard strides, lazily slapped the door entry panel, and sat down heavily on his cot. This time, it was Callum who shot into the room tapping his PDP, a mixture of wonder and excitement on his face.

"Koushik! Friend, you aren't going to believe what MicroWave found. I'm pretty sure it's a legitimate find - the program is far enough along to be fairly accurate. It's a minor miracle, really, how MicroWave made this correlation. You can blame that happy accident on my leaving the -"

Callum looked up from his PDP and for the first time noticed Koushik was sitting on his cot instead of at his terminal.

"You were asleep?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, I actually was," Koushik croaked out.

"Well, that makes two breakthoughs in one day," Callum laughed. "I've been trying to contact you for the past ten minutes through your terminal feed, but I can't seem to get through."

"You can't," Koushik said, rubbing his eyes with both hands. "Dr. McKibben has banned me from all bridge and terminal access. I guess she locked me out from both transmitting and receiving."

"Ah, so you were grounded then?"

"I thought those days were all behind me." Koushik's head had almost completely cleared now, his eyes focusing and becoming more alert every second. "So, what did MicroWave find?"

Callum spun and roughly sat down next to Koushik causing the cot to bounce slightly. Callum's sparkling eyes met Koushik's.

"I know where your fusion anomaly originated from," Callum said quietly, almost reverently.

Callum held his PDP at an angle where both of them could observe it and continued, "When I began running the program, I neglected to instruct it to limit it's search to just the anomalies we have logged so far. Prior to this, I had been doing some reading up on the Unity mission...just to pass the time. I got a little nostalgic the closer we got to Chiron.

"Anyway, I accidentally left numerous links open to technical archives on the _Unity_ herself...the materials used to build her, blueprints, engineer formulas, things like that. So after MicroWave went full steam through _Ganymede'_s mission archives, it went off the reservation and began digging through the historical archives looking for a match to the schematic it created of your fusion anomaly." Callum's smile became wider. "It found something."

Koushik was fully alert now, thoughts racing overdrive though his mind. He felt his breathing becoming shallower as the implications of what Callum was telling him become clearer. "Are you saying my anomaly...that MicroWave made a correlation between my anomaly and the _Unity_ itself?"

Callum, still grinning widely, didn't answer. Instead he made a few key taps on his PDP and turned the screen back toward Koushik. Two computerized schematics appeared opposite one another. Callum pointed to the one on the left and said, "This is the waveform of the _Unity_'s fusion reactor output, taken right from the archives, created by the chief research engineer himself." Callum then pointed to the schematic on the right. "This one here is MicroWave's interpretation of your anomaly."

Koushik scowled, confused. "But, they don't appear to be the same."

"I didn't think so either. At first I chalked it up to a bug in the program." Callum raised a finger and held it in front of his face for a moment.

"Until..."

Callum placed his finger on the right side image and moved it around on the screen which rotated the schematic. When he stopped Koushik's eyes widened in complete shock. The two waveform schematics were nearly identical. His mouth fell open and he looked at Callum stupefied. Callum bore his teeth in a wide grin.

"I believe you may have found the _Unity_, my friend," Callum said. "And you just may have rewritten history."


	4. IV History Revealed

Bit by bit, human history continued to be rewritten as the _Ganymede_'s sensitive sensor package reached out and embraced Chiron. Koushik's accidental discovery of what was now believed to be evidence left behind from an apparent _Unity_ reactor overload was the spark that had set off almost maniac activity aboard the ship.

Callum and Koushik, both still in their sleeping garments, had been working relentlessly since their joint discovery. Other scientists and researchers quartered nearest to Koushik had been awakened by the two scientists' noisy chatter during the early morning hours. As word of the _Unity_ discovery spread rapidly throughout the ship it awoke even more.

Ironically, one of the last people to learn of the discovery was Dr. McKibben as no one on her science team dared wake her lest they receive a reprimand for not following her mandatory sleep order. So upon entering the research bridge after a restful night's sleep she had been startled to see the entire three-dozen-strong _Ganymede _research team working furiously, the rolling noise of voices combined with the hum and chatter of busy terminals. All three shifts were awake and working together, crewmen running zig-zag from terminal to terminal as they compared data and cross-referenced figures. The energy and intensity was so bizzare, Dr. McKibben wondered if Dr. Mitra had managed to clone himself thirty-five times overnight and set his creations loose on the bridge.

It didn't take long for Rhona to find out what all the commotion was about and it took even less time for the scientist within her to begin feeding off the vibe that flowed through the bridge. Rhona had half-jokingly told Koushik that they would be making history in a big way. She never expected it to be of this magnitude. No one did. Not even the Space Committee back on Earth.

The next nine hours had seen one new discovery after another. The big question on everyone's mind was answered within the first hour: Chiron would indeed be capable of supporting human life - after overcoming a few obstacles. Chiron's gravity was heavier than Earth's, not totally unexpected since Chiron was a larger planet. To the scientists relief, they were also able confirm that while Chiron was a bit further from Alpha Centauri A than Earth was from Sol, it was brighter which helped offset the difference. As a result, anyone living on Chiron would receive nearly the same amount and intensity of sunlight as on Earth. Alpha Centauri B was too distant to be much of a factor. But future Earth colonists would have to endure some tough challenges if they were to begin a new life here. Chiron's day-cycle was only eighteen hours long and it's year was longer than Earth's. The most sobering hurdle to clear, however, involved Chiron's atmosphere which was heavy with nitrogen, the remainder composed of oxygen with a sprinkling of carbon dioxide. No human would be able to breathe Chiron's air very long unless they wore man-made breathing apparatuses.

And _Ganymede_ sensors had only just begun peeling away the secrets of Chiron. When they entered orbit and began sending probes to the surface, even greater dangers to humans could be uncovered, serious enough to consider the mission a technical failure.

Chiron was indeed habitable but it could be a tough life for the average human. The next several hours would reveal if it would indeed be worth it.

* * *

Onto the bustling research bridge walked _Ganymede_'s commander Rafael Ramirez, tall and thin with dark eyes and the close cropped hair of a military man. He was a rare visitor to this area of the ship. Preferring to remain on the lower deck command bridge to give the scientists as much breathing room as possible to perform their tasks, he now found himself unable to resist observing the research crew as they performed their historic work. Scientists could be touchy regarding their privacy and he did not want be the cause of any uncomfortableness.

_An odd group these eggheads. _

Ramirez stood just inside the bridge entrance for several unobserved minutes capturing snippets of conversation which allowed him to create a fuzzy picture of what was happening. More than once he raised his eyebrows in surprise when he overheard particularly significant information.

He watched Dr. McKibben as she worked her corner of the bridge, shuffling back and forth between the crew, grabbing PDP's and handing them from one person to another in a pattern only she knew, pointing at terminals and questioning conclusions. She finally registered Ramirez's presence out of the corner of her eye. She smiled, walked toward him, and saluted. Ramirez returned the salute.

"Busy day, Doctor?" he said with a smile.

"The busiest," she answered, brushing back a troublesome strand of hair. "My apologies, sir. I hope you weren't standing there too long."

Ramirez waved a hand in dismissal. "I was enjoying the show. By the way, what were you and Hendrix working on just now? He was acting as though he had made a breakthrough of sorts."

"Just before I saw you? He was running more detailed tests on Chiron's atmosphere. He believes while long-term exposure to excess nitrogen will not be good for humans, it should be a godsend for Earth plants. With the amount of nitrogen in the soil, I'd expect any plants to grow twice as large in half the time. With some minor genetic tweaking of course."

Ramirez nodded, his face showing mild surprise. "So, we may have just solved the food problem then?"

Rhona crossed her arms. "It's a little soon to say, but the data supporting that hypothesis is strong. A few more tests and we should know for certain by the end of the day."

"Excellent." He gestured toward Koushik and Callum. "And how are your two superstar's doing?" Rhona turned toward them and smiled. The two men were working animatedly at Koushik's terminal, childlike grins cemented on their faces.

"They can't be stopped, sir," she answered with obvious pride. She inched closer to Ramirez and said in a low voice, "I think the Chief Signals Officer is concerned he may have lost his assistant."

Ramirez chuckled. "Well, we can't have that, can we? Doctor, I know circumstances are quite extraordinary today but I need you to make sure Mr. Cook doesn't burn himself out working with your team. He's one of the best at his job and the CSO is going to need him back in his assigned place, rested and ready. Understood?"

"Understood, sir. I'll voice your concerns to him."

"Thank you, Doctor." Rhona saluted, began walking away, then abruptly stopped. "Oh, sir," she said, turning back toward Ramirez, "have you sent a report off to Command yet?"

Ramirez nodded. "I did so about three hours ago. I expect to hear back from them in about - half an hour." He smiled and added, "Of course that depends on how long it will take them to recover from the shock."

Rhona's face turned serious and she took a step toward him. "What do you think they'll do, sir?"

Ramirez glanced away and took a deep breath before answering. "Progress is impossible without change. And a lot of key minds back home are being irrecovably, decisively changed right now." He glanced at Rhona and held her gaze for a moment. "Your guess is as good as mine."

He saluted and walked out.


	5. V Waiting Game

_Three and a half hours later_

Ramirez sipped his third tepid cup of coffee as he and the six other members of the command staff waited in his quarters for Command's reply transmission to arrive. He paced, lost in thought while the rest sat silently in soft chairs scattered around the room. The air was filled with a excited, nervous tension, each officer pondering what decisions Command would make.

Ramirez glanced at his terminal's chronometer as he passed by it for the tenth time. "They're really late," he muttered. The officers didn't stir. They knew it, too.

Ramirez made one more trip around the room and finally sat down in front of his terminal, setting his cold coffee aside. He alternated glances at the floor and the screen, fingers absently tapping the arm of his chair.

The southern lilt of the chief engineer finally broke the silence. "I wonder if they'll let us land some eggheads on Chiron."

Ramirez raised an eyebrow. "How, Jeremy? We don't have anything capable of landing on the planet. This is a research vessel, remember?"

"Hmm," Jeremy answered, wobbling his head back and forth noncommitally. "I could rig up one of the life pods so it could pass through Chiron's atmo safely." He wagged a finger at Ramirez. "This is big stuff, Commander. They'll want us to do somethin' even if it seems crazy."

Typical Jeremy. Always wanting to charge in and damn the consequences. "Those pods aren't designed to handle that kind of stress. And if something went wrong, that would leave us less one life pod and several valuable crew members. And even if we could get people down there safely how would we get them back?"

Jeremy shrugged. "Just thinkin' out loud, sir." He adjusted himself in his chair before muttering, "I could figger out somthin', though." Ramirez overheard the comment but said nothing, preferring to let the conversation drop.

After a moment Emmons, the logistics officer, spoke up. "Command must have a plan in the works already. They'd be fools if they didn't. The instant this information gets out the entire planet is going to want to know when colonization permits are going to be passed out, regardless of how unbreathable Chiron's atmosphere is. If Command comes across as ill-prepared or hesitant -" he shrugged, letting his unfinished comment hang in the air. "That's a lot of face to lose regarding the biggest discovery in human history."

"That's right," answered Jeremy, sitting up in his chair again. "I got some buddies working in Command R&D and they've been a little quieter than usual these past few months. Somethin' may be up." Emmons nodded thoughtfully.

"Or they may have simply been transferred to a new project," Ramirez interjected. "Command always has a lot of irons in the fire."

"True. But that decrease in communication could indicate Command concentratin' their efforts on a potential breakthrough."

Ramirez straightened in his chair a bit, his scrutiny passing between the chief engineer and logistics officer. "Do you two know something? Is Command working on something big?"

Emmons shook his head sharply, raising his hands in surrender while glancing at Jeremy. Well, Emmons isn't hiding anything. But Jeremy's face had begun to flush red, his hand absently stroking his chin, refusing to meet Ramirez's gaze.

"Chief?" Ramirez said flatly. "Something on your mind?"

Jeremy cleared his throat before answering. "Sir," he began, the drawl that normally colored his voice nearly absent now. "My contacts in R&D have not directly relayed to me any information regarding Command projects, secret or otherwise. All I can tell you, sir, is that my contacts have alluded to me that they continue to diligently work on assignments that may or may not have any bearing on our mission at present."

Ramirez stared at his chief engineer for a long moment, then nodded slowly in understanding. Jeremy did know something. How much he could not be certain. But Jeremy's emphasis on the word "directly" in his statement was his way of telling Ramirez that if word got out before Command was ready to spill the beans, his colleagues in R&D could find themselves, at best, under serious scrutiny. At worst they could be tried for disclosing Command secrets and spend the rest of their lives in dusty prison cells.

"Wow," said Myers, the Chief Signals Officer. All eyes in the room focused on him. "That was a beautiful speech, Jeremy." He choked, acting as if he were wiping tears from his eyes. "I think I just fell in love with you."

Emmons snickered, quickly followed by the rest of the staff. Jeremy's face got a bit redder as a wide smile formed on his face. Barbs were exchanged between Jeremy and the other officers while Ramirez shook his head at all of them.

The room soon quieted and, as if on cue, Ramirez's terminal began to chime. They had finally received Command's response to his initial report. In an instant, faces became stoic and the atmosphere in room became one of cool professionalism. Ramirez touched a few buttons on his desk keypad and his terminal began to rotate until the flattened screen faced upward. A few moments later a shimmering image emanated from the upturned screen and a virtual visage of Wesley Garland, Chief of the Space Committee and Supreme Mission Commander, appeared floating above the assembly. Though his face seemed to be a perfect mask of professional indifference, all could see the smile behind his small, squinted eyes.

"Commander Garland, _Ganymede_ project Mission Commander, replying transmission 2219.3.27 from Commander Ramirez.

"Gentlemen," he began, and now Garland looked down as if addressing the officers themselves, though everyone knew the transmission had been recorded hours ago. Still, it was a nice personal touch.

"I must begin by expressing my sincere and humble congratulations on your historic discovery. Words alone are impossible for me to convey Command's sheer delight concerning your initial report and our infinite gratitude regarding the personal sacrifices all of you have made in order to make this incredible journey possible. The crew of the _Ganymede _will forever be remembered as the very first to discard centuries of speculation and prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that there is indeed a future for mankind in the cosmos. Again, the entire _Ganymede_ crew has my most heartfelt gratitude and congratulations." Garland smiled at the end, pausing briefly to let his words play over the room he could not see.

The staff felt a humble pride at Commander Garland's words. They had indeed sacrificed a great deal to undertake this mission, one that their anxious families regarded as unnecessarily risky. Now they would all be remembered as heroes not just by their families and peers but by the entire world.

"Now, gentlemen, to the business at hand. As all of you undoubtedly noticed my reply transmission was late in arriving. That was due to crucial decisions that needed to be made quickly on our end regarding how to best proceed." Emmons nodded slowly, a smug expression on his face. He had guessed right.

"Of course you will all receive transcripts of everything Command is planning to do and I welcome any suggestions or modifications to said plans as you deem necessary. However, I trust you all appreciate that these will be subject to alteration, often drastically so, as _Ganymede_ continues to send us reports." Everyone in the room nodded in understanding.

"It is very important that we try to make the best decisions possible _now_. That will mean many decisions will not be popular ones. But it is vital to our long term success that we build the proper foundation towards future endeavors. I am merely being honest as I remind you that certain ideas and methods will be rejected out of hand and that egos will be bruised. But we must always, always be conscious of our larger, ultimate goal...to ensure the future of mankind on this new world and possibly, with a lot of hard work and a bit of luck, other worlds as well."

A few of the staff cast glances at one another as Garland made them realize for the first time Chiron could be a stepping stone to further human expansion - that Chiron was a beginning instead of an ending.

Garland paused, glancing away as if accessing new information. He "looked" at everyone again before continuing. "Gentlemen, I have been given permission to relay to all of you recently declassified information regarding the space program. SciCom scientists have not been idle since Ganymede left nearly a year and a half ago. About two months before your departure, our researchers were beginning to make serious strides in new spacecraft propulsion technologies, even faster than the FTL drives Ganymede currently operate with. New breakthroughs in spacecraft construction were already underway before your launch, as you well know, and I believe you all will be pleased at the end result. But it's this new propulsion system that has really made us proud. It's called 'hyperdrive'". Glances and raised eyebrows passed between the assembled officers.

"Hyperdrive technology is much faster, efficient, and stable than FTL," he continued. "All information on hyperdrive will be made available to you after our meeting, but I can tell you that hyperdrive is over four times faster than our current propulsion systems. That means your sixteen month trip from Earth to Chiron can now be done in slightly over four months." Garland's face softened a bit and he smiled. "I'm sorry to inform you Commander Ramirez that _Ganymede_ has been made obsolete."

Garland's last comment was meant as a bit of humorous ribbing. Jeremy, the closest to Ramirez, watched a multitude of emotions flash across his commander's face and one of them was definitely not humor.

Fortunately, Garland took only the briefest of pauses before continuing. "But the good news is you will all be returning home much sooner than we had anticipated. Your expected four year round trip has been trimmed back dramatically thanks to hyperdrive. Our spacecraft designers and engineers continue to work diligently and we feel confident that construction of new spacecraft prototypes will begin in as little as three months with a couple of months of trial runs after that. Simply put, gentlemen, you should all be home in as little as nine or ten months. Barring any unforeseen mishaps, of course." Murmers of approval all around the room and even Ramirez could not help but smile.

"So, gentlemen, that's everything I have for you. Again, all information has already been uploaded to you and should be arriving very soon after the completion of my transmission. My best wishes to you and your crew along with those of the entire Space Committee. End trans." Garland's image quickly faded away and Ramirez's terminal display rotated back to its vertical position.

Ramirez turned and looked at his chief engineer. "Hyperdrive. That was the big secret, eh?"

Jeremy shrugged. "I guess so, sir."

"You guess?"

"Sir, I admit knowin' that Command was working on something," Jeremy answered sincerely. "But I swear to both you and the good Lord I had no idea what that 'somethin' was though I kinda had an idea."

Jeremy rubbed his face with a hand and let out a long breath. "I tell you what, though. I didn't expect anythin' like this. This hyperdrive - boy, it sure changes things."

Ramirez nodded solemnly. "A lot of change in a very short amount of time." He leaned back rubbing the base of his neck, massaging a creeping tension. "I wonder if we'll even recognize home when we get back."

He tried to find some comfort in what he had told Dr. McKibben.

_Progress is impossible without change._


	6. VI Secrets Revealed I

2219.3.29

Ship log entry

Rafael Ramirez

Commanding Officer

Research vessel _Ganymede_

Day 544

_We've been in Chiron high orbit for nearly twenty-four hours. Cartography and Signals have just completed mapping the planet. So far three of twenty _Ganymede_ probes have been dropped to the surface. Initial probe data should be arriving shortly._

_Both science team and command staff are extremely hopeful that our probes will bring back workable data regarding what appear to be a number of abandoned settlements of various sizes and construction scattered over the surface. Computerized image enhancements of these structures leave little doubt that there were indeed _Unity_ survivors who successfully landed on Chiron. What has happened to them since is unknown._

_But what is clear is that despite what Commander Garland stated in his transmission, it appears that _Ganymede_ will not be the first to prove that humans can make a life for themselves on another planet. The _Unity_ survivors have beaten us to it._

Ramirez ended his log entry and quickly walked to the command bridge eager for an update. "Sitrep?"

"We should be receiving probe-trans in less than five, Commander," answered Emmons at the far end of the bridge, hovering over his assistant seated at the terminal. "Probe Four launched at 1426. Probe Five go for launch at 1435. Probes Six through Twenty all show green."

Callum, analyzing information at his terminal station just to the left of Chief Signals Officer Myers, reported "Solar wavelengths nominal, Chief."

Myers nodded, then turned toward Ramirez. "Centauri's A and B show no signs of intense solar flaring. Probe data should come through free and clear."

"Good," said Ramirez. He walked over to his terminal and pressed a couple of buttons. "Dr. McKibben. We'll be receiving our first probe transmissions in less than five minutes. I'll need you at your command station within three. Acknowledge."

A brief pause, then McKibben responded. "Very good, sir. I'll be there." A few moments later the science officer's command bridge station came alive. The terminal and several display screens blinked on as Rhona began the computer transfer from the research bridge.

"Let's do what we came here to do," Ramirez said to no one in particular.

Rhona did her best to make sense of the flood of images and raw information that seemed to scroll endlessly on her screens, her breathing slight as her eyes darted.

"My God."

Except for the occasional awestruck whispered comment, the _Ganymede_ crew were eerily quiet as details of _Unity_'s human settlements on Chiron made its way through terminal after terminal. _Ganymede_'s central mainframe computer, nicknamed "Gort" by the crew, quickly auto-archived the information.

Probe One, controlled remotely by one of the researchers on _Ganymede_, floated about five feet off the surface of Chiron on the outskirts of a large city, it's powerful and adjustable gyroscopic maneuvering fans holding it in position. It's high resolution imaging system was being focused on a sprawl of low to medium height buildings of many shapes and sizes about three hundred yards away. Despite being stained with the red dirt of Chiron and completely devoid of life, the city seemed to have been functional and even comfortable at one time. Near the center of the city was a sleek, thirty meter glass topped tower. Few of the glass panes remained intact.

The probe moved through the outskirts and toward a long line of rubble that seemed to mark boundaries of the city. Rhona suddenly slapped the comm button on her terminal. "Probe One, hold up. Give me a slow rotation to port."

Ramirez walked over to Rhona's station. She pointed at the ground on the display as he approached. "There was a wall here at one time. A big one. Looks like it collapsed on itself," she said in a voice not entirely convinced.

The probe continued its slow turn. "Stop. Okay, move forward. Toward the tower."

As the probe began moving again, more details of the city came into view. Many above ground tunnels, some torn open and exposed now, radiated outward from the tower like spokes on a wheel. Large circular tent-like structures dotted the landscape around the tower, the durable material torn open exposing the metal bracing.

She touched the display screen at different points. "Look at the ground, at those craters. That couldn't possibly be erosional forces at work, can it?"

Ramirez moved his head a bit closer to the display. "I don't believe so. They look more like impact craters to me."

Rhona looked at him. "From space? There's a small asteroid cluster about thirty light minutes away from Chiron."

Ramirez shook his head slowly. "No. I don't think so. These impacts are in close groups. I don't think meteor impacts would leave that kind of grouping behind." He stood up, rubbing his chin, a slight chill running down his spine. "To be honest, they look like mortar or artillery impacts."

The revelation disturbed Rhona. She saw no reason to doubt Ramirez's assumption. Being a military officer, Ramirez would obviously know the difference between a hole made by a mortar and one made by a celestial body.

She stared at the tattered buildings, the rubble and the pock marked ground, her face a mask. "That may explain the uniformity of the collapsed wall. It could have been systematically demolished."

Images of the city continued to float across the screens. As the probe got closer to the tower, blast marks and chipped stone could be seen along its length rising nearly to its apex.

"Stop," Rhona said quickly. "There's something above the tower entrance. Let's see it."

The probe maneuvering fans adjusted slightly as it boosted itself to reveal an emblem carved into the stone above the opening that led into the tower.

"Well, I'll be," Rhona murmured.


	7. VII Secrets Revealed II

"That looks like the old United Nations insignia," Ramirez said.

Rhona nodded. "It appears so, sir. Though it's obviously been modified somewhat."

The emblem was similar to the one used in the mid-twenty first century, composed of a flattened projection of Earth enclosed by two olive branches. But this emblem had done away with the Earth continents. In their place were two starbursts, one larger than the other, with an even smaller one on the opposite side. The three stars were set in a roughly triangular pattern.

Rhona gently touched the screen as if she could run her fingers over the low relief carving and feel the stone itself. "Those larger starbursts must represent Centauri's A and B and the smaller one must be Chrion."

"A new United Nations for a new Earth," Ramirez said. "Whoever was in charge of building this place was quite the idealist. Though from the looks of this city, idealism only got them so far." He chuckled to himself. "Realism always trumps idealism. I wonder what those people would think if they knew the old United Nations has been dissolved?"

Rhona cast a sidelong glance at Ramirez. "The goals of the United Nations were quite noble, sir. It was created in the belief...the hope...that humanity could set aside differences and work together for the common good. And idealists are always needed, sir. Their passion is what pushes inevitable and necessary change."

Ramirez shook his head. "The old United Nations was a glorified debating society, Doctor, with many of its member nations far from interested in the common good. A number of UN programs were dreamed up simply because key members wanted to buy UN influence, not because they were in the best interests of the oppressed."

Rhona's expression cooled. "Some were, but most weren't, sir. Remember the Twelve Minute War between Pakistan and India? The UN acted decisively in the aftermath and probably saved countless millions of lives. In that moment, your 'debating society' united under a common cause despite their past failings. It _is_ possible, sir."

Ramirez pursed his lips. "That's true. Extreme crisis can bring out the best in men. But it's not in our nature, Doctor. If it were, why the need for something like a United Nations in the first place?"

A report from Myers interrupted their conversation. "Probe Two has just gone online, sir. All systems green."

Rhona touched a control and images of the somber but proud remnants of the United Nations city disappeared. Images from Probe Two, about two hundred kilometers to the southwest of Probe One, revealed a city more rugged and practical compared to its UN counterpart. A huge banner, tattered but mostly intact, fell from the top of the tallest building in the city center. A hexagon emblem with a downward graphic arrow piercing the inside was embroidered on it.

"That's some impressive regalia," Ramirez said with the slightest hint of admiration. He straightened, crossing his arms. "I would deduce from the structures and that banner that these were a very proud people. Wouldn't you say, Doctor?"

Rhona glanced up at Ramirez, who had a measured look about him. She was uncertain whether he was genuinely moved or if he was merely toying with her.

"I'm no archeologist, sir, but the city does have a certain air of...intimidation about it. The large banner gives it quite a martial flair." She grinned. "Probably settled by a bunch of militant realists. Wouldn't you say, sir?"

Ramirez smirked. "Most likely." He leaned closer to Rhona and said barely above a whisper, "Remember, Doctor. Militaries fight wars so there can be peace."

Rhona's eyes flared with indignance at Ramirez's comment, the muscles in her face tense. Ramirez continued to hold his face close to hers but with a look of mock innocence as if he was unaware of having said anything distasteful.

Then he winked. Rhona's burning eyes changed from anger to reproachfulness. She relaxed, giving Ramirez a sidelong stare as she slowly turned back toward the terminal, the faintest smirk on her face. She and Ramirez had had many friendly but heated debates during their voyage to Chiron about the dichotomic tendencies of man; that man was an aggressive creature, always leaning toward conflict with himself and nature; or that man was a benevolent creature, capable of doing incredibly good things if unhindered by external negative impulses. More often than not, Rhona's sheer force of will allowed her to have the last word, wearing Ramirez down and forcing him to the throw in the towel.

But Ramirez had pulled his old trick of broaching the subject while they were both on duty. Since he was the superior officer, Rhona was powerless to properly counter his statement without Ramirez pulling rank. And she would never think of countermanding her superior on his own bridge and in front of the other officers. Ramirez shrewdly played off her regard for protocol so he could have the last word. It was a cheap shot that really irritated her. She silently swore he would pay dearly at their next off-duty meeting.

- - - - -

The last of the _Ganymede_ probes reached Chiron's surface two and a half hours later. The crew continued to get an eyeful. "Gort", the central mainframe, had bogged down more than once as it struggled to quickly archive torrents of probe data.

As the hours had gone by other cities, bases and outposts were revealed in greater detail. Human settlements were scattered all over Chiron's three main continents. The heaviest concentrations were located in the large central continent. These central continent cities were almost fully developed and quite modern.

_Ganymede_ scientists had uncovered six unique construction characteristics of Chiron's dormant cities and labeled then accordingly. The "UN style" settlements in the middle of the center continent and the "bunker style" southwest of them were among the first to be so designated. A group of settlements to the northwest were constructed in the "natural style" since those settlements utilized the environment of Chiron itself, set into towering natural rock formations and hills. To the northeast were chic, lavish settlements that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. These were dubbed "Morgan style" because nearly all of the buildings sported a triangular logo with the name "Morgan" underneath. Set into the mountains of the southeast were the settlements of the "Galileo style", so named because the most prominent buildings were towering cylinders topped with golden domes and large telescopic observatories.

The eastern continent also contained many settlements but these were uniformly underdeveloped and primitive. The continent itself was mostly barren and desert-like which, scientists guessed, may have helped attribute to their anemic state. The largest city, however, contained a single magnificent structure of tall spires, stained glass, and flying buttresses. Thin, wooden doors, fifty feet in height, pointed the way into the sanctuary. Inlaid above the main entrance was a massive, circular emblem containing a cross. The glittering, imposing structure seemed to rise from the midst of the dusty, ramshackle buildings that surrounded it, painting both an ethereal and paradoxical picture. Deducing the area to be some sort of religious center or culture, the scientists half-jokingly classified the structures under the "pilgrim style".

The western continent was mostly empty except for a couple of "Morgan" and "bunker" style settlements at the northern and southern extremities respectively. The great swath of unused quality land between them had puzzled the scientists.

But the mystery had been solved by the hard working Dr. Mitra temporarily in charge of the research bridge. On a hunch, he ordered two of the probes operating on the western continent to switch from visual mode to ground penetrating sonar. Immediately, computerized images revealed a spider web of underground tunnels of all shapes and sizes scattered over several hundred kilometers. The five underground settlements were all connected by long singular tunnels so as to allow movement back and forth between them. It was an awesome display of subterranean engineering. The scientists simply referred to them as "the tunnels".

Seven distinct structure classifications that possibly indicated seven distinct human cultures that had formed on this new world. The scientists were too busy gorging themselves on Gort's seemingly endless streams of probe data to properly digest the significance.

But the officers, especially Ramirez and McKibben, were already beginning to piece together the larger picture. Humans from Earth had built these structures. They had lived and thrived in them for a time. There was strong evidence that violent conflicts had taken place. And now the entire planet was completely devoid of human life.

They wondered whether the conflicts of generations past had been brought with _Unity_ and deposited on this new world.


	8. VIII Message from Home

Mission Day 552  
(one week later)

Callum was leaning far back in his chair, legs jutting out ahead of him. He was otherwise motionless except for one hand that absently tapped his leg. He stared at the terminal screen in his quarters, not really focusing on the words displayed there. His eyes seemed to look through the terminal, the bulkhead beyond, to space outside and the planet that rolled underneath him. But even Chiron seemed to be as distant as Earth was, as though _Ganymede_ were floating in a starless black void.

The ice in his glass of bourbon clinked, shifting as it slowly melted, and the noise brought Callum back from the vast nothingness to his small, gray quarters. And to the terminal in front of him. His eyes settled again on the last line of his wife's transmission.

_I'm so sorry._

Callum knew this day was coming. He knew it was coming long before he had volunteered for the _Ganymede_ mission. The founding of Chiron, the remnants of the human settlements and the part he and _Ganymede_'s crew had played in unveiling it to the people of Earth had "made all of you instant celebrities and heroes" according to her. So she felt that now would be a good time for her to leave him even though she knew he was still years away from returning home.

_Not really. Hyperdrive will get us home a lot sooner than you think. Not that it matters, I guess._

They had both known they weren't as happy as they should be. It wasn't her desire to have children and his fervent rejection of it. It wasn't his desire to be at Command's beck and call, constantly stationed at locations all over the world, while his wife earnestly desired to plant roots. No, any one of those things should have been enough to end it. But they just kept on for whatever reason, unable to separate, as if some powerful life magnet had forced them together and refused to let them drift apart.

Strangely, Callum didn't find the divorce announcement cowardly of her. She had never been vindictive. It wasn't her nature. He understood the reason why she chose this moment to leave him. It was because she knew when Callum returned there would be no shortage of suitors for him to choose from. His newly acquired notoriety would make sure of that. She simply didn't want to be the obstacle that kept him from starting a new life. If she left him now, the wounds she opened today would hopefully be healed by the time he made it back to Earth.

Callum grabbed the glass of of bourbon and finished it off with one determined quaff. He began to sense the heaviness lift slightly in the room. The empty pit in his stomach quivered as if life was pressing itself against him, like water trying to force its way through a cracked dam. Or maybe it was the bourbon. It didn't matter.

He couldn't help thinking back to what had caused him to fall in love with her so many years ago. He let that old comfortable, peaceful feeling course through him one last time. Despite what she had done, he knew he could never be angry at her.

A wistful smile began to grow on Callum's face. Even in her "Dear John" letter she was able to show him compassion.

- - - - -

Rhona, Koushik and a dozen other scientists steadily worked on the research bridge. Rhona had given orders a couple of days ago to temporarily power down most of the probes so they could begin to get a handle on all of the probe data that had been transmitted. Gort, if it were capable of it, would've probably been grateful to be given the chance to catch its breath.

Rhona had broken up her second shift research team into three groups. Group One contained a geologist along with a xenobiologist and her assistants who focused on the study of any native lifeforms. Group Two contained an archeologist and a cultural anthropologist who continued to study three dimensional computerized recreations of the settlement structures. Rhona, Koushik, four other scientists, two historians, an anthropologist and a psychologist rounded out Group Three. Their job was to sort through newly declassified historical information sent by Command about the _Unity_ mission. Between the lot of them, they wanted to discover what actually caused the _Unity_ survivors to break into these separate cultures and why.

But that was going to take quite a while.

"I'm surprised Callum isn't here to give us a hand," Rhona said to Koushik. He nodded.

"I haven't talked with him for a couple of days now. I tried to contact him but he's blocked his terminal and doesn't answer his door." Koushik shrugged. "I guess he just needs a break."

"We all do." Rhona twisted her shoulders, trying to relax her tense back muscles. "It seems like an eternity since I had some decent sleep."

"Ah, but there is so much to discover," Koushik said, turning back to his terminal. "Never was that more true than right now."

Rhona rolled her eyes and glanced over to see the psychologist looking at her with an amused look, ruefully shaking her head. Rhona gave her a silent, knowing smile and gently shrugged her shoulders.

_What can you do?_ she seemed to say.


	9. IX Historical Moment I

**Two hours later**

Morgan. Nwabudike Morgan.

Thanks to the Morgan logo emblazoned on nearly every building in his settlements, the researchers did not have to dig very deeply to find information on him. In fact, a few business remnants started by the then-powerful CEO still existed in some capacity on Earth's African continent, though the corporations had drastically changed over the decades and the "Morgan" name had been mostly relegated to the dustbin of economic and corporate history.

Industrialist. Driven. Pleasure-seeking. Zest for life. Narcissist. These were a few of the words the psychologist had used in her preliminary psych report on Nwabudike Morgan, the primary and most important contractor of the _Unity_ project. He was a brilliant economic opportunist and his gifted ability to raise money combined with his wealth of resources had made Morgan Industries the obvious, but somewhat reluctant, first choice to fund the project.

The reluctance to use Morgan Industries was clarified by a number of publications from the time period along with a few surviving inter-corporate memos from businesses that had been subcontracted by Morgan Industries. There were more than a few accusations of the bribing of U.N. officials, project auditors and construction companies that tarnished Morgan's otherwise squeaky clean project record. Perhaps_ too_ squeaky clean.

Even more interesting was a lone report that stated Nwabudike Morgan had disappeared days before the _Unity_ launch and was not even present at the launch ceremony. Considering how Morgan's craving of the spotlight and his larger-than-life personality should have placed him front and center during Unity launch day, his disappearance was bizarre to say the least.

But looking at the computerized recreations of Morganite buildings on Chiron's surface, most on _Ganymede_ quickly deduced where he had ended up.

- - - - - - - -

_Silos! _That was the word Hendrix had been trying think of to describe these "Galileo" structures. He zoomed out and twirled the fully formed dimensional image of the city, stripped away of the mountains that surrounded it. Half a dozen of the silo structures, astronomical observatories in realty, projected from it like perfectly formed fingers.

Probe Fifteen was his baby. Dr. McKibben had left only four probes operational for the time being and Fifteen was one of them. Lucky him. He spent most of his probe-watch pondering his pricelessness as he regarded himself one of the more dependable members of the research crew. His value was more of a curse than a virtue, always being singled out to perform the drudge work. He craned his neck to cast an envious glance at McKibben's three research teams across the bridge.

_Yeah. It stinks being good at your job._

Twisting his mouth into a pout, he slumped back into his chair. A real-time feed of Probe Fifteen was displaying the gently bobbing image of an entrance into a two story building as the probe itself waited for instructions. Koushik's bright idea to switch to underground sonar had revealed many settlements sporting underground areas but nothing as elaborate as "the tunnels" had been. Now the probe controllers had even more exploring to do.

Most of them were unremarkable: storage rooms, warehouses, basements underneath living quarters. There really hadn't been much to see save the occasional personal artifact haphazardly left behind. Hendrix wondered if they had been left behind on purpose like a small beacon saying "I was here" or if they were simply discarded like so much refuse. Either way, most of the crew found them even more interesting than the settlements themselves.

A message blinked once again on Fifteen's screen indicating that it was ready to proceed. Hendrix gave a command for the probe to move through the entrance. There was an empty elevator shaft just inside on the right and Hendrix ordered Fifteen to descend into it. As there was no light in this underground space, Hendrix had been waiting patiently for the probes solar batteries to fully charge. Probe Fifteen now had six full hours to operate in complete darkness.

_Lucky me._

Fifteen backed into the elevator shaft and slowly descended, its powerful twin floodlights activating as the sunlight gradually disappeared. The elevator had been lodged on the second floor which Hendrix found slightly odd. Usually when power was cut, most elevators slowly sank to the bottom floor for safety reasons.

Fifteen exited the elevator at the bottom of the shaft and moved slowly down a long featureless hallway, the floodlights garishly highlighting the closed in walls. A minute later probe light spilled into a small square room, illuminating everything as clearly as one of Chiron's suns. A fine layer of dust covered everything. The room was featureless just like the hallway that preceded it save for a long table that ran the length of the back wall. On and around it were terminals, computers and machinery of all shapes and sizes. Hendrix had seen different versions of this room present in most of the other settlements.

_Another data storage dump of some sort._

Hendrix sighed, running a hand over his face and rubbing his weary eyes. Per procedure, he punched a few buttons and made the probe do a slow turn of the entire room for recording purposes. A few minutes later Fifteen was done and Hendrix instructed the probe to head back to the surface. As the probe began to back away from the far wall it automatically shut down its powerful floodlights to save battery life.

Thats when Hendrix saw the lights.


	10. X Historical Moment II

Hendrix froze. He focused intently on the spot making sure the tiny twin lights weren't just spots in his eyes. As Fifteen continued slowly backing away Hendrix temporarily lost contact with the lights in the pitch black room. He grunted and began slapping controls to stop the probe in its tracks. Hendrix then ordered it forward again at a snails pace, his face only a couple of inches from the display.

A moment later the lights appeared again. He touched a couple of controls. The floodlights activated again but at a drastically reduced intensity, just enough light to show him exactly where the bright spots were coming from.

_There it is. That large mainframe looking thing on the left. _

He maneuvered the probe to where it hovered directly in front of the two small lights. One was green and the other was yellow. He brightened the probe lights a tiny bit more. Just below the lights were words written in what appeared to be a cyrillic alphabet. Hendrix gave a slight groan.

_Dammit. Why does it have to be Russian? _

It took Hendrix a moment to fumble through the symbols for a translation (he hadn't done that well in mandatory language studies) but finally concluded the words translated into "Primary power backup."

_A power backup_, he mused. _These lights probably indicate that the backup is still working. And that means these terminals could be turned on! _

Hendrix spent the next several minutes maneuvering Fifteen around the power backup unit searching for the switch that would turn it on and, hopefully, the terminals themselves. But he couldn't find one.

Frustrated, he sat back in his chair, jaw clenched and eyes bright. He wasn't about to give up on this. There had to be a way to turn this thing on. No one would design something like this and tuck away the primary activation switch. No engineer in his right mind would.

A thought came to him. He did a quick search in the Unity archives, much more helpful now that Command allowed access to a lot of old information, and discovered that a few Russian designed power backups from decades past had been manufactured with a foot pedal power activator and not the standard flip switch on the side. Hendrix returned to Fifteen and slowly dropped the probe to near floor level.

_Bingo._ There, on the right side, was a long thin foot pedal that ran the length of the supply unit. But another problem presented itself. The probe had no feet to speak of and its primary appendage was not placed in a position where it could trigger the floor switch. And Hendrix couldn't rotate the probe on its y-axis without possibly losing control of the probe itself. But that doesn't mean I can't knock something over.

Fortunately the power backup was placed close to a table littered with small implements. Hendrix took a moment to look over his options. There were only two. One was some sort of ancient PDP device, bulkier than the ones _Ganymede_ crewmen were equipped with. Another seemed to be a rectangular metallic toolbox with a handle on the front.

The PDP device would be sacrificed first since it was larger. Hendrix touched a control and Fifteen's clawed appendage slowly extended into view. He maneuverved the probe and a moment later the arm was resting on the right side of the PDP. Hendrix tested the resistance with a couple of small fan bursts. Satisfied that the object would move without breaking Fifteen's arm, Hendrix gave a short but powerful burst to the right engine fan and the probe quickly swung to the left, sliding the PDP off the table.

The PDP struck the floor just short of the foot pedal and shattered into several large fragments with such force that it startled Hendrix. The equipment was flimsy by modern standards. _What a piece of crap_, Hendrix said to himself in an effort to mask his own frustration. _With equipment like that it's amazing they got off the stupid launch pad! _

Taking a moment to settle his nerves he swung Fifteen back to the table and his last hope, the metallic tool box. He moved the probe toward the box, appendage still extended, and tested the resistance on the box. It was much heavier than the PDP possibly indicating there were tools still inside. This was going to require some careful maneuvering. Too much force on the toolbox and Fifteen's arm would snap. Then he would face Dr. McKibben's wrath.

Hendrix straightened himself, blew on his hands, rubbed them together and hunkered down to his task. For ten excruciating minutes he nudged the toolbox into position with careful bursts of Fifteen's maneuvering fans, alternately tapping the left and right side of the box with the probe arm to get the position just right.

Finally he was ready. He was too focused to notice the beads of sweat that were rolling down his back. He placed Fifteen's appendage on the right side of the toolbox and tested the resistance, mentally calculating the force he would need to launch it on the right trajectory. His eyebrows clinched together, worried that it would be too much for the probe arm to handle.

But he had to know. He whispered an apology to Probe Fifteen then boosted the maneuvering fans. The probe seemed to hesitate for the slightest of moments, as if protesting, then the world on the screen spun wildly as Fifteen launched the toolbox off the table.

Hendrix's heart shot to his throat as he fought to keep control of the probe now spinning out of control. His arms were a blur, hands flying over the controls. Slowly, the spinning world outside the probe slowed and finally Fifteen came to rest. Hendrix let his head fall back on his chair and stared at the ceiling, letting out a long slow breath. The fan burst had been powerful enough to disrupt the probe's gyroscopic control center for a moment. Hendrix had barely avoided a most expensive accident.

He focused his eyes back on the display and his heart sank. The probe displayed nothing but darkness. Then a thought came to him. He turned on the floodlights and the screen revealed the probe was now facing the hallway and the elevator entrance beyond. Fifteen had come to rest facing opposite to the way it had entered. Hendrix's breathing stopped.

He touched a fan control and Fifteen slowly spun around. All along the back wall terminals were lit and lights were flashing as power once again flowed through long dormant power cables. On the largest of the terminals a display had been activated and a long list of sentences in a multitude of languages appeared. Earth languages. Hendrix panned down the list until he found one he could decipher.

It said, "Alien traveler. We are the survivors of the United Nations project Unity, a colonization mission which departed a dying Earth in the year 2060. Please enter the activation code 'PLANET' to gain entrance to the historical datalinks."

Hendrix's hand shot to his mouth to stifle the gleeful roar of laughter that exploded from his lungs. He peered over his terminal to see Dr. McKibben, Koushik and a few of the other scientists giving him puzzled looks.

_Oh, I am so good at my job! _


	11. XI Factions Revealed

**Earth Space Command HQ**

**Perth, Australia**

**Day 613 of _Ganymede_ mission**

**(Two months later)**

The lights in the spacious apartment home brightened to their pre-programmed intensity as Wesley Garland walked in after another long day of meetings. He tossed his stylish leather bound PDP onto the plush sofa as he headed to the bathroom to splash water on his face and change into more comfortable clothes.

After changing he made his way to the kitchen and pulled out one of his last pre-fab dinners. It wasn't a particular favorite, but he felt especially hungry tonight so it mattered little. He touched a button on the side of the container and set it aside as the tray automatically began to cook the food inside.

While waiting, Wesley passed the time sorting through personal messages received while he was out. He hadn't bothered to wear his PLink for weeks because of the lengthy logistics meetings he had attended. He couldn't return a call even if he wanted to at this point. He shook his head in exasperation when he came across the pleadings of particularly demanding associates, either ignoring the message or deleting it entirely.

_No. You bean counters won't get your pound of flesh tonight. _

Wesley quickly ate his meal, poured an after dinner drink, and made his way to the sofa and the PDP lying on it. He navigated his way to the latest _Ganymede_ reports regarding the seven settlement leaders of Chiron. It was fascinating how the _Unity_ survivors had split along these ideological lines. Sociologists would be writing books about this for years.

Gathering Chiron's early human history through one old terminal on the surface was a very painstaking process since no one could land on the planet. The _Ganymede_ crew were wholly dependent on their remotely controlled probes to access the old datalink terminal. As the power dwindled on one probe another would be sent in to take its place so the data mining could continue. And everyone worried about the backup power supply itself. Just how long would it last?

Wesley began scrolling through Chiron's leader profiles again. CEO Nwabudike Morgan was at the top of the list, of course, since he was the first to be studied. It didn't surprise Wesley that Morgan had become one of the faction leaders. His charisma along with promises to his people of unlimited economic prosperity made him an easy man to follow.

Deidre Skye, _Unity_'s Chief Botanist and Xenobiologist, was responsible for the "natural style" settlements on Chiron. She was an attractive, brilliant scientist whose keen intuitive knowledge of plant strains was responsible for the huge Earthpine forests that now grew wild over Chiron's surface. A staunch environmentalist she referred to her followers as Gaian's. According to the psych reports she didn't care much for the Morganites, who "exploited the beauty of Chiron for their own debauched luxury." A highlighted record of a newsvid debate between her and Morgan quoted her as saying "Morgan's notions of 'healthy' growth are more like that of a cancer cell."

Wesley then selected the psych profile of Sheng-Ji Yang, Chief Security Officer of the _Unity_, who was apparently referred to as "Chairman Yang" in the settlements. Born in China, he was gifted with a powerful mind and a strong will. Yang was another tough personality that people would gravitate toward in time of crisis. His underground cities were built as a consequence of his obsession for protection and defense. But Yang's psych profile was littered with red flags. He was security minded to the extreme. In fact, he was quite paranoid. His desire to control every aspect of his peoples' lives turned his culture into one resembling more of a police state. There were flagged reports of numerous officials disappearing under mysterious circumstances along with rumors of torture and nerve stapling performed on many of the more independent minded citizens.

Then there was the Spartan Federation led by the survivalist Corazon Santiago, a one time lieutenant in Yang's security force and another strong personality. She was responsible for the "bunker style" settlements that had so impressed Commander Ramirez. Corazon, a model soldier, was physically and mentally tough with a strong will to survive. But she disdained weakness of any sort, emotional or physical, and was known to have an explosive and often violent personality. A report from _Ganymede_'s cultural anthropologist revealed that Spartan children were taken from mothers at birth to begin the long, harsh Spartan training regimen. If weakness was perceived at any point during training the child was summarily eliminated, cut out of Spartan society like a diseased growth.

After Santiago came the psych profile of Sister Miriam Godwinson, Psych Chaplain and Lieutenant Commander of the _Unity_. She and her Believers had carved out an existence on Chiron's barren eastern continent, mostly shunning the technological advances of the other leaders and relying instead on "an abiding and unwavering faith in God" to provide for them. "The struggle itself is what makes us strong, not necessarily what awaits us at the end of the struggle," one report quoted her as saying. Wesley chuckled a moment later as the the report went on to reveal that Miriam's Believers had covertly penetrated the other settlements and "acquired information" on many of their elaborate technologies. When a charge of espionage was leveled at her by a Morganite diplomat she sidestepped the accusation by saying, "We simply maintain watch over the spiritual so the secular does not work its poison too deep." What technologies she did possess were generations behind anything the other faction leaders had. But her influence could not be ignored. Her followers were legion as thousands of the disenfranchised and downtrodden had found their way to her lands.

Academician Prokhor Zakharov was a Russian scientist whose old but still functioning backup power supply had given _Ganymede_ access to Chrion's human history. The man was literally a genius. He was responsible for the genetic enhancements that had kept all seven faction leaders alive for the century that humanity had thrived on Chiron. It was a breakthrough that would be considered abhorrent today. Such longevity treatments had been universally banned nearly twenty-five years ago, though strictly regulated "fashionable" genetic tweaking was still allowed. The process was marketed under the name "Designer Genes."

Wesley tapped some highlighted links on Zakharov and more screens zoomed into view. _Unity_ project leaders had chosen Zakharov for developing planetside technologies. Wesley took a moment to scroll through a few and found they had roughly paralleled technological developments on Earth with some techs developed ahead of those on Earth, others developed years after. Wesley then moved on to the psych profile. Zaharov had believed strongly in teamwork, but his view of the world in general was driven purely by logic. As such, his ethics had suffered and many of his followers had "defected" to rival factions because of his perceived callousness and social deficiencies. And, of course, his humanistic bent and logical mind was set at odds with Sister Miriam's spiritual beliefs. Needless to say they did not get along well.

Finally, there was the idealist. Commissioner Pravin Lal, born in India, was _Unity_'s chief of surgery. He had been a strong believer in the United Nations Charter and had been primarily responsible for organizing humanitarian relief after Earth's Twelve Minute War and the India Border Conflict before that. He was part of a team of researchers that made great strides in DNA repair which had saved countless lives in the aftermath. Or at least made life more bearable for the survivors.

Lal appeared to be a genuinely good man, a humanitarian of the highest order who loathed conflict. Not surprisingly, his followers became known simply as the Peacekeepers. Lal himself was elected as head of Chiron's planetary council which seemed to rule wisely for several years after planetfall. But Lal's primary failing was that he was a bureaucrat. A well meaning bureaucrat, but a bureaucrat nonetheless. His vision for Chiron did not take into account the simple fact that there were people who simply refused to play by the rules, not matter how benevolent the ruler. The Spartans were one such group. They had looked on the United Nation laws of Pravin Lal and his Peacekeepers as an oppressive yoke that threatened their way of life and, as Spartans seemed to do well, they armed themselves with the mantle of revolution and attacked the very heart of the UN settlements. The Peacekeepers fought back bravely but could not stem the Spartan tide. Their superior training and weaponry was simply too much to overcome.

Wesley called up the date of this attack, the first of so many factional conflicts recorded in the old datalinks. The year was 2112. Wesley shook his head sadly. Only twelve short years after planetfall.

* * *

For the next half hour Wesley Garland mulled over several more _Ganymede_ reports and updates. The influx of information had hit critical mass about a month ago and was only now starting to slow down, finally giving Command a chance to really delve deep into Chiron's archives. He skimmed over reports of Zakharov's technological breakthroughs, Skye's work with plant hybrid's and the deadly mindworms that were native to Chiron, Morgan's intricate trade networks and undying quest for more resources to burn, Santiago's massive weapons programs, Yang's constant battle to control his people, Lal's passion to set up a fair planetary government, and Miriam's worry that many of these things were not being done according to the will of God.

But there was one story in particular that had been nagging at the back of Wesley's mind since _Ganymede_ first uncovered evidence of the _Unity_ survivors. He had been searching Chiron's archives every day to find a report, a memo, a snippet of a record of one particular man.

Tonight, finally, his quest came to an end. Wesley found the answer in a newly uploaded archive from the Peacekeepers datalinks. It was an old holobook written by Pravin Lal himself describing the events on the _Unity_ just before planetfall.

According to Lal, the crew had been awaken from their cryosleep much earlier than they should have been. It was suspected that sabotage was to blame for the _Unity_'s reactor damage and a small but determined band of mutineers, supposedly led by Corazon Santiago, were rampaging through the ship. Whether the mutiny was the result of the reactor malfunction or the cause of it was unknown.

_Unity_'s commander and friend of Pravin Lal, Captain John Garland, had been shot in the chaos but was still alive. Garland and Lal quickly discovered that the reactor malfunction had caused a shutdown and locked the escape pod release mechanism. There was not enough time to run a full diagnostic as the ship was now a ticking time bomb. It was Garland who volunteered to leave the ship to activate the exterior manual release mechanism. Lal, of course, protested Garland's decision. Once the restraining bolts were tripped the escape pods would blast free of their mounts and there would be no way for Garland to save himself once they had been launched. It was a suicide mission.

But Captain Garland, slowly dying from loss of blood, knew there was no other way. The reactor damage would eventually cause the _Unity_ to explode and take nearly forty thousand colonists with it. There was no way he was going to let humanity meet its end so close to their destination. Not as long as there was breath in his lungs.

According to Lal, Captain Garland donned his spacesuit and exited the ship never to be seen again. But his personal sacrifice had saved all of them and had given humanity one more fighting chance at survival.

Wesley sat in silence for a long time as he digested the story of his grandfather of six generations ago now relegated to a few paragraphs in a small history holobook. His eyes welled up as he went back to read Lal's simple statement on the holobook's introductory page, three small words that transcended generations, leaping through space and time as they made their way to the one man who would truly understand and embrace them.  
_  
"For our Captain." _


	12. XII Choosing Sides

**2219.6.20 **

**Research Vessel Ganymede**

**Day 626 **

Ramirez sat silently for a few moments after cutting the transmission link from Command. A sudden weariness came over him. Not the kind of weariness that comes from lack of sleep. He had been able to control that pretty well over time. No, this feeling was deeper than that - a weariness more sterile, more lifeless.

Ramirez quickly stood up, purposely walked over to a corner of his quarters, and poured himself a cup of coffee hoping the jolt would quench the creeping moroseness. He silently shamed _Ganymede_'s coffee maker for its inability to properly heat a cup of coffee, sardonically wondering why the engineers couldn't have run an FTL reactor line to this infernal machine. Now, that would be one hot cup of coffee.

Ramirez took a couple of sips before reaching over and touching the comm button. "Dr. McKibben, please report to commanders quarters." A minute later a soft chime indicated Rhona had arrived outside the door. "Enter."

Rhona walked in smartly, the door sliding shut behind her. A subtle pride rose up in Ramirez as he considered his science officer's appearance. Her uniform, as usual, was neat and crisp, her professionalism and sense of duty always present. Even though her mind was one of science and reason instead of soldiering and tactics Ramirez always admired her commitment to the uniform. It was that mutual respect that had kept them friendly despite their many opposing viewpoints.

Ramirez motioned her to sit down which she did cleanly, crossing legs and lying hands in her lap in unison, back and head straight as a rod. He would have given Rhona an "at ease" command but he had learned many months ago that it did little to change her posture or her quiet intensity.

Ramirez took one last sip of the weak coffee before setting it aside. He walked toward the center of the room in a measured gait, arms crossed, turning to face her as he slowly half-sat on the edge of his work table. When he eventually looked at her he attempted to mask his feelings behind an impassionate visage but it didn't fool Rhona.

"I just got a transmission from Command," he said evenly. "They want us to cease probe ops within seventy-two hours."

Rhona remained still at the news. To the average crewman, the news would have seemed to have no effect on her. But Ramirez noticed the edges of her eyes twitch slightly and the hue of her face turn slightly redder. "Did they tell you why, Rafe?"

Rhona's unexpected use of Ramirez's shortened first name, which she used only when they were off duty, told Ramirez the news had affected her far more than she let on. Her face, now fully flushing with embarrassment, only served to confirm what he already knew. She spoke again, the words uttered barely above a mumble. "I mean - did they tell you why, _sir._"

"Exactly why? No, they didn't. You know as well as I do they never tell you exactly what's going on." Ramirez immediately glanced away, biting his tongue at his last comment which was something better said off the record. But Ramirez reasoned he and Rhona were now tit for tat on breaking protocol so he continued, albeit more cautiously. He relaxed, shifting so that he now sat comfortably on the edge of his desk, arms still crossed.

"Commander Garland seems to think we have enough data on Chiron to rate the mission a complete success. Beyond successful, really. It goes without saying few of us really thought we would strike gold out here. And not just the crew. Command had its share of doubters as well."

"All the more reason why we should continue if you ask me, sir." Rhona said. "What we've seen here - what we've discovered is the equivalent of...of..." - she waved an arm through the air as she searched for the right metaphor - "finding a holy relic. This is the scientific version of uncovering the Ark of the Covenant!"

Ramirez nodded firmly, apologetically. "I agree, Doctor. But apparently Command feels they have enough data to begin work on their loftier, long term plans."

Rhona sighed heavily. "I understand Command's desire to get moving, but isn't it a bit too soon, sir? Have we gained enough knowledge to justify wholesale colonization of this planet?"

Ramirez pursed his lips and looked up, eyes staring off into the distance. "You believe Chiron could be more dangerous than we think?"

Rhona glanced away a moment then returned her gaze to Ramirez. "We've gained tremendous knowledge over these past weeks, sir. To be honest, we wouldn't have gotten this far had Hendrix not stumbled upon that old terminal on the surface. But that in itself is also a problem. We have gathered and logged so much information that it stands to reason we could have easily overlooked something critically important." She leaned forward pointing at the bulkhead and Chiron beyond it. "Sir, that's an entire _planet_ out there, one that humans have not had the luxury of living on for thousands of years. Everything we know know about it is enough to fill up this little ship. That's it. We don't have enough insight into what makes this world tick to make such..."

Ramirez looked at Rhona when it became clear she was not going to finish that statement. Her hand was gently rubbing her mouth and chin as though she were gently pushing words back into her mouth. A tiny smile formed on his face.

"Such rash decisions?" he finished for her.

Rhona leaned back in her chair doing her best to mimic her original composed posture. "We're still looking into why nearly all of Chiron's native life has been wiped out," she continued, her voice measured. "Was it cosmic phenomenon? Disease? Life cycles we know nothing about? Human interference? And there's also the minor detail of not knowing exactly what happened to the _Unity_ survivors. It's clear they left here but where did they go? _Why_ did they go? Was it lack of food? The aftermath of some war?"

"All legitimate concerns, Doctor, whose answers will come in time." Ramirez said in a low voice. "Please understand, I also disagree with Command's order to cease probe ops. But I have to believe that Commander Garland and SciCom already have enough data to move their agenda forward. And whatever methods or plans they've dreamed up I guarantee you all of them end with the colonization of Chiron."

"I'm not opposed to colonization, sir," Rhona said in a tone that bordered on exasperation. "I'm just opposed to slapdash colonization."

Ramirez gave her a sidelong stare, his disapproval apparent. "Doctor, I believe you are beginning to let your emotions override your reason."

"And I believe Command is doing the same!" Rhona shot back. "I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot help but remain - at _best_ - dubious about this whole decision."

Ramirez considered his science officer for a time. He silently hoped that Rhona knew how sincere his feelings on the this matter were and that they were not far from hers. Commander Garland seemed to be moving things along quicker than Ramirez thought prudent. But he was, for all intents, Garland's "commander in the field" and as such needed to walk the line between Garland's command and his own. He had to show proper respect for Command decisions no matter how unpopular those decisions were. And despite his personal feelings they had to be enforced.

Ramirez stood up, arms falling to his side. "I realize this decision is difficult for you, Doctor. But as Commander Garland told us weeks ago some Command decisions will not be popular ones. We no longer have the luxury of time and Garland thinks its safe to proceed with pre-colonization. It's as simple as that."

Rhona stared at Ramirez coolly, unflinching. Then she looked down, tongue firmly planted in her cheek and nodded slowly though she was far from accepting of Ramirez's conclusion. "May I be dismissed, sir?" she asked in a low, brittle tone.

"You may," Ramirez answered flatly.

Rhona stood up, saluted, and walked purposefully out of Ramirez's quarters, her gait precise and not a little tense. Ramirez followed her with his gaze but Rhona never looked back at him.

Ramirez stood in place for several moments after Rhona left. She had taken his Command report harder than he expected. He shouldn't have been surprised by it though. Rhona was a consummate perfectionist who believed in not only doing a job well but also doing it thoroughly. But Ramirez felt that she sometimes put thoroughness above everything else. She expected to be given as much time as she needed to get the optimum conclusion. In a pure research environment that may indeed be expected. But this mission was mainly funded by the military and they, as a rule, had a finite amount of patience. As a military scientist, Rhona admired and embraced the discipline and commitment the branch instilled but it was always at odds with the creative and rather unconfined aspects of being a scientist. Rhona managed to be one of the few who could work within both spheres but at times like this it became a real struggle.

Eventually Ramirez forced his back muscles to relax and made his way around the table to his chair. The terminal came to life automatically and Ramirez willed himself back to work. Soon he found himself fully absorbed in ship routine and welcomed the numbing effects of it.

She had been given enough troubling news for the day. Which is why Ramirez figured he would wait until later to inform her that Command had also decided Ramirez was ready for a retirement after the _Ganymede_ mission was complete.

* * *

A fuming Rhona McKibben walked briskly back to her quarters. As soon as the doors slid to a close she finally released the tension that had been building over the course of the meeting. Her entire body was warm with indignation and this time she refused to let her professional side keep the feeling in check. She glanced down at the Space Command patch over her left breast. Then she moved her left arm and looked at the circular patch of the Science and Research branch on her upper shoulder. She wondered if the two emblems would begin to smolder if she brought them together. It was certainly happening within her right now.

She reached across her chest and jerked the tunic flap open nearly ripping the shining gold buttons off the uniform. She shimmied out of the tunic and threw it across the room. The tunic landed cleanly across her science terminal covering it completely.

_How symbolic_, she thought.

Rhona reached behind her head and wrenched off the hair tie, the hair reluctantly falling across her shoulders. She walked to the bathroom, activated the heated sink and turned on the water which quickly sent steam into the air. Rhona closed her eyes and leaned over the sink burying her face in the steam cloud, forcing herself to become lost in the mild sensory deprivation it provided. When she was done she stared at her reflection in the small mirror for a long time, her red face and the hair surrounding it dripping water. Her white undershirt was now soaked in the front but it barely registered on Rhona's radar.

Why was she so angry? This was not the only time Command had decided to hamstring their research - her research, presenting them some cryptic rationalization as a reason, if they even bothered to give them a reason at all. And why was she so wounded by Ramirez's inflexibility? She felt as though he really did understand her feelings on the matter. She knew that Ramirez's hands were tied. He had to implement Command orders. That was his job. So why was she taking this probe shutdown news so poorly - so personally?

Rhona felt as though her spirit was becoming heavier. Had she finally grown tired of the internecine battle she constantly waged between science and military? If she continued the battle, would it eventually dull her instincts to the point where she could no longer properly utilize both effectively? Would she retire an anesthetized shell of the person she was?

Was it time to finally choose a side?

Rhona's visage began to change in the mirror, morphing from the slightly pinched cast she had been sporting into one steely and determined. Without looking down she tapped the water handle, reached into the cold water with both hands and splashed it roughly in her face. The shock of the frigid water seemed to cement her resolution. She grabbed a face towel which sported the emblem of the Science and Research branch and began wiping her face as she headed toward her terminal.

Rhona lifted her discarded tunic from the terminal and tossed it aside. She didn't sit down, which would have automatically activated the terminal, but accessed it manually. It was a more involved process but she needed to log in this way in order to properly cover any trace of the transmission she was about to make.

* * *

On the research bridge, Koushik Mitra was slowly walking between occupied research terminals like a school teacher shuffling through a classroom while his students took final exams. The crew had learned to tune out his presence over time. Most favored Dr. McKibben's method of planting herself at one central location where all relevant information could be brought to her. But Koushik liked to put himself where the action was, feeding off the scientific quintessence in the room, observing the crew as they chipped away Chiron's mysteries which were becoming fewer and fewer as the days passed.

A beep at his terminal close by interrupted his meandering. A small flashing box was displayed on the screen with the word "eyes only" on it. Intrigued, Koushik tapped the on-screen box which quickly flashed a message.

"_Meet in my quarters. McKib." _


	13. XIII Loose Cannons

**Earth Space Command HQ**

**Day 639 of Ganymede mission**

**(One week later)**

_...and this final conflict, which became known as The Mindworm War, would become the largest and most widespread of all the factional wars fought on Chiron. All seven factions would eventually become involved in one way or another. The Mindworm War was also the last large scale conflict fought on Chiron before the seven factions fled the planet. _

_The spark that set off this conflagration seemed to begin with a boundary dispute between the capitalist Morganites and the environmentalist Gaians. A large Gaian earthpine forest boundary that separated the two factions had begun to overtake a lucrative Morganite mineral deposit. The exact boundary line had been in dispute for years. The Gaians insisted the edge of the forest closest to the Morganites embodied the limit of the Gaian border while the Morganites insisted the opposite was true. But the forest seemed to be growing more rapidly in Morganite territory than in Gaian. As a result, Morganite diplomats attempted to make the case that Lady Skye was deliberately pushing her border further into Morganite territory, occupying a key mineral find in order to keep the Morganites from exploiting it. _

_The planetary council, led by Commissioner Pravin Lal, could not quickly come to an agreement on the border dispute. Before a final decision could be reached, Morganite mining equipment swept into the forest leveling a large portion of it. The Gaians were outraged and Lady Skye demanded the council force Morgan to immedately halt his operations. Unfortunately, Lady Skye and her Gaian faction held little influence over the planetary council. _

_In fact, Morgan seemed to get almost everything he wanted. A resolution was eventually passed allowing Morgan to extract the vast mineral deposit under the stipulation that only the portion of the forest covering the deposit could be removed. There was to be no indiscriminate "slash and burn." _

_The Gaians were furious. They feared the smooth-talking Morgan would find a way to exploit his victory by, for example, informing the council he would need more space to properly excavate his minerals, thus pushing the boundary further and further into Gaian territory. He had attempted it before. _

_The normally pacifist Gaians acted quickly. They began summoning Chiron's deadly native life forms, known as mindworms, to attack Morgan's mining vehicles in the field. The worms attacks were gruesome to behold as the Morganite victims froze in terror, living in a type of waking nightmare, as the worms tore into their flesh, eyes and brains. Now it was Morgan's turn to be furious. _

_Unfortunately for the Gaians, the Morganites had powerful allies in the Spartan and University factions. In fact, Prokhor Zakharov, leader of the University faction, had just made a breakthrough in anti-mindowrm technology. He had discovered a method of destroying the mindworms completely without causing damage to the human body itself via a finely tuned vibrofrequency. The Spartans, of course, wanted the technology badly as their citizens were constantly fending off mindoworm attacks. Zakharov cared little for the mindworms, secluded from their attacks in the mountainous terrain his bases occupied. His problem were the Believers to his east who were constantly infiltrating his bases and sabotaging experiments, specifically ones involving human genetic enhancements. _

_Zakharov approached Spartan leader Corazon Santiago with an offer. He would trade his anti-mindworm technology for advanced Spartan weaponry to use against Sister Miriam's Believer hordes and defeat them once and for all. Santiago readily agreed. Thanks to Morgan's pact with the Spartans it wasn't long before Morgan, in an extremely expensive trade, got his hands on the technology as well. The Peacekeepers, feeling things were spiraling out of control, finally attempted to put a stop to... _

Wesley Garland tapped the audio timeline graphic and slid his finger toward the end of the transmission.

_...nearly wiped out all mindworms on the surface and agreed to a unilateral cease fire in order to bring everyone to the negotiating table one last time. The faction leaders spent many weeks hammering out their grievances. Santiago was the most inflexible, wanting the wars to continue in order to ensure the survival of the fittest. Deidre Skye was extremely distraught by the massive killing off of native life and was willing to go along with any plan that would stop the fighting. Pravin Lal also shared the Gaian sentiment. Morgan seemed unfazed by the destruction, treating the council meetings like one of his trading seminars. The University and Believers mutually loathed one another after suffering terrible losses in their personal war and were only grudgingly accommodating to council wishes. _

_Eventually, all came to the conclusion that instead of risking mutual annihilation they should leave Chiron and exist apart from one another, each faction colonizing its own planet, free to live the life they desired for themselves and their people. Prokhor Zakharov's astronomers had long ago found other habitable planets in the system. The council drew lots to see who would go where. _

_It took about three years for the seven factions to build the proper spacecraft and propulsion systems that would take them to their new homes. It is the ultimate irony when one realizes that all seven factions worked together to build these craft so they could exist apart from one another. End. _

Wesley Garland absently rubbed the bridge of his nose as he contemplated what to do next. Ramirez had lost control of his science officer and her assistant Dr. Mitra and neither Wesley nor Ramirez were happy about it in the least. Court-martials for both officers were inevitable but for right now there was the fate of their survival to worry about.

Wesley cleared his throat and tapped a command on the terminal. A series of lights flickered on the holo-trans unit nearby indicating it was set to record his message.

"Commander Garland, Ganymede Mission Commander 2219.6.27 to Commader Ramirez. Ramirez, I will need your action plan regarding Dr's. McKibben and Mitra by 0900 tomorrow, Ganymede time. I will also need you to place Engineering Officer Jeremy Nixon under arrest on a charge of conspiracy. We need to know if he assisted these two in hijacking that escape pod and rigging it so it could land on Chiron's surface."


	14. XIV Scapegoat

2219.7.4

Research Vessel Ganymede

Day 640

(24 hours later)

Jeremy Nixon attached another Nicostim patch under his armpit and continued to pace the room nervously. The engineering officer had been confined to quarters with no terminal access for the past twenty hours and cabin fever was beginning to set in. The conspiracy charge levelled against him was, of course, complete madness. There was absolutely no way he would ever risk his career on the stupid stunt Dr. McKibben had pulled. Sure, he knew what she had done was technically possible...quite easy to do, in fact. But there was no way in hell he would have gone along with it without the complete approval of Commander Ramirez. And even then he would have been damn sure to completely cover his own ass in the off-chance something went wrong.

Jeremy was so outraged at McKibben's antics and how they had affected him he was unable to admire the fact that it had actually worked. He was also angry at himself for not following basic term-op procedures. Since he was the only engineer on board he never expected anyone to be remotely interested in what ideas he tossed around on his off time. Hell, everyone on the ship thought most of his ideas were just quaint little fantasies of an overactive mind.

What else was he going to do during down time? Go crazy for boredom? The F.T.L. drive was almost completely self-sufficient with enough failsafes built in to cover every known emergency. In his opinion, Command could have fulfilled this entire mission without the need of an engineer at all.

_Now that woman's got me hooked on Nicostim again after bein' off it for damn near a year! _

Two beeps and the door to his quarters slid open, startling Jeremy and stopping him in his tracks. A dark and sullen Ramirez entered first followed by Logistics Officer Emmons, Signals Officer Myers and his assistant Officer Cook. The door slid closed behind them and beeped twice indicating the door had been passcode locked once again. No one was entering or leaving this room until Ramirez let them.

Jeremy managed a quick salute to his Commander who smoothly returned it. "Stand at east, officer." he said in a low voice.

Jeremy relaxed and put his hands behind his back. His eyes nervously flicked between the other officers, their expressions detached and unreadable, acknowledging them with a quick nod before returning back to Ramirez. A long silence followed, all eyes focused on Jeremy who continued to perspire heavily under his uniform.

"Officer Nixon," Ramirez finally said. "Did you assist Dr. McKibben and Dr. Mitra in their unapproved launch of Lifepod Two?"

Jeremy cleared his throat slightly before answering. "Sir, I swear on my mother's grave, I didn't know anything about it. There ain't no way I could've..."

"I didn't ask you for an explanation, officer," Ramirez said curtly. "It's a simple 'yes' or 'no' question. Did you or did you not assist Dr. McKibben and Dr. Mitra in the unapproved launch of Lifepod Two?"

Jeremy swallowed hard. "No, sir."

Ramirez, without taking his eyes off Jeremy, held out his arm. Emmons smoothly laid a handheld PDP in his hand. Ramirez brought it back and began to read from it.

"Did you allow Doctor's McKibben and Mitra access to your personal files, specifically files 212 through 247 which contain figures and diagrams of a modified Lifepod that allows ship-to-surface transition?"

"No, sir."

"Then can you explain to me how Doctors McKibben and Mitra were able to modify Lifepod Two in nearly the exact same manner that were found in these records?"

_He's not gonna like this answer_, Jeremy thought. "Sir, I've been operating my personal terminal without the required firewall restraints. It was strictly a personal choice and I take full responsibility for my actions."

Jeremy steeled himself in the dead silence that followed as Ramirez slowly looked up at Jeremy, his eyes seeming to grow larger as they sparkled with anger. The other officers managed to maintain their stoic disconnect from the proceedings, their rapid blinking the only evidence of their being affected by his revelation.

"You blanked your firewall?" Ramirez took a step closer to Jeremy, his face only inches away from his. "That a breach of class two protocol, officer! You want to enlighten me into what thought process led you to such a stupid decision?"

"Sir, I dropped the firewall to increase the performance of my terminal." He mouth quivered slightly as he fought the urge to explain his action but finally thought better of it. "Again, sir, I take complete responsibility for -"

"You goddamn right you do!" Ramirez exploded. "I've got an irreplaceable military scientist and a SciCom research officer roaming around on an alien planet because you wanted to eek out a few extra nanoseconds on a terminal used to piss away your free time! I've got a good mind to put you in one of the other Lifepods and blast your ass to Chiron so you can join up with your fellow adventurers and run around singing 'kumbaya'! What do you say to that, officer?"

Jeremy continued staring forward, his face and eyes red. "I will comply with whatever orders the Commander deems prudent."

Ramirez stormed off in a huff sharply shaking his head from side to side in complete frustration. He walked the length of the room in silence then suddenly spun around and addressed Jeremy again. "You're in a bad place, officer. Command reps are going to have to be informed of this and Garland's breathing down my neck. He's expecting me to serve up a scapegoat to use for the inevitable press inquiries."

Jeremy continued staring forward but felt the blood drain from his body at Ramirez's statement. So much for that high paying cush job he expected to be awarded to him when he got home.

Ramirez began slowly walking back to Jeremy's position, head down, hands absently fumbling with the PDP. He stopped directly in front of his engineer, looked up and stared at him for a long moment. Finally he said, "You're extremely fortunate you're not the goat."

He raised the PDP and pressed a control. The voice of Dr. McKibben reverberated throughout Jeremy's quarters, the transmission popping and warbling with static:

"_I would like to state for the record that Engineering Officer Nixon had absolutely no prior knowledge of my and Dr. Mitra's plan to jury-rig Lifepod Two in order to land on the surface of Chiron nor was he in any way complicit in the execution of said plan. His only fault was his failure to follow proper terminal procedures combined with a penchant for mild boasting regarding his engineering abilities. Both allowed us easy access to his computations on Lifeboat modifications. Dr. Mitra and I would like to express our sincere apologies to Officer Nixon for any trouble we have caused him. In no way did we intend to do so. He is a fine and gifted officer, as this transmssion from the surface of Chiron clearly demonstrates."_

Ramirez stopped the recording and handed the PDP back to Emmons. Jeremy stood unsteadily, eyes blinking rapidly as his mind spun.

"Our two scientists took enough portable oxygen with them to last about a week," Emmons said. "But they're obviously going to need more. I'm in the process of scraping up enough oxygen containers to last them another two months but we're going to have to use another Lifepod to drop it down to them. I'll need you to make that happen."

Officer Myers spoke next. "Officer Cook here is working on a probe modifcation that will allow us to directly communicate with Dr. McKibben on the surface. As you've just heard, she's managed to find a way to send us one-way audio which means she's probably scavenged some old tech from one of the bases. This should enable us to get a primitive two-way transmission going."

"Give me another twelve hours and I'll have it working," Callum said. "I'll need you to look over the probe schematics, Officer Nixon, to make sure we don't cause an overload when Dr. McKibben attaches this thing I'm working on. We only have so many Lifepods to send down to her."

Jeremy could do little but look completely stupefied as the officers talked while Ramirez stood close by watching Jeremy with a measured eye. When the officers were done Jeremy turned to Ramirez, eyebrows raised and mouth silently opening and closing as he tried to process what had just taken place.

"S-Sir," he finally stammered out. "Does this mean that the charges against me are dropped?"

"That's going to depend on you, Jeremy," Ramirez said with a trace of graveness in his voice. "With Garland's help I think we can put a positive spin on this incident but only if you don't screw up like this again. That means if those scientists wind up dying on that planet the bullseye will be right back on you." Ramirez took a step closer to Jeremy.

"And on me too, officer." he said menacingly. "I'm ultimately responsible for everything that happens on this ship. So you better do your damndest to keep them alive down there. Because if you don't, I'll pull your ass under the steamroller with me. Do I make myself quite clear?"

Jeremy nodded quickly, determined. "You'll have my best, sir."


	15. XV Forest Primeval

**Day 643 **

**(Three days later) **

Dr. Rhona McKibben pulled her breathing mask down and rested it under her chin as she took another bite of the large pear. Back home, she wasn't particularly fond of the fruit but these Gaian hybrids had infused everything she tasted with enhanced flavor. While she and Koushik were exploring the remnants of this Gaian base she had discovered some personal notes made by a Gaian genetic scientist who was well on the way to altering the taste of certain foods to make them more palatable for the allergic or for the particularly picky. If one was allergic to the higher acidity of apples, for example, but craved them nonetheless then one could try a genetically altered bananna or watermelon with an apple taste.

Even after their third taxing day on Chiron, Rhona was nonetheless impressed by the ingenuity of the _Unity_ survivors as they endeavored to survive on this alien world. Technology and culture had taken some very interesting twists as it evolved over a century after planetfall. But it was the incredible, almost furious, pace of genetic manipulation on Chiron that would leave all of _Ganymede_'s crew, and eventually everyone on Earth, quite stunned. Compared to Earth, little on Chiron seemed to be off limits - seeds, plants, soil, skin, organs, children - all were given equal amounts of consideration and experimentation. And while genetic manipulation had been seriously curtailed and strictly regulated for decades on Earth, Rhona felt there would be few back home would judge the Unity survivors harshly. Despite occasional lapses into the god complex, an inevitable consequence of such unbridled research, most genetic experimentation had been geared toward the betterment of society. The frenzied pace of experimentation was, quite simply, necessary in order to survive on this alien world.

Munching on her pear, eyes playing over her surroundings, Rhona walked a few yards further into the massive Gaian greenhouse. The half-acre greenhouse contained a cornucopia of fruit trees, vegetable gardens, tropical plants, several Earthpines and other foliage she couldn't recognize. Rhona could tell this greenhouse had once been a fabulous and even aesthetically pleasing ecosystem. Now after years of neglect the contents of the house had grown wild, the foliage growth accelerated by Chiron's nitrogen rich soil. The Earthpines had broken through several glass ceiling panes. Berry vines were growing untamed along the inside walls and over the ground. Where the massive trees allowed light to peek through, grasses grew thick and lush as they battled for dominance over the vegetable gardens. The whole scene was eerily primeval. And, she admitted, quite beautiful even in its apparent chaos.

She glanced back to where Koushik still slept about thirty yards away in a clearing at the edge of the greenhouse, light glinting off the large tropical leaves he had used to form his makeshift mattress. He and Rhona did find a small sleeping area in a corner of the greenhouse complete with a handful of large padded benches, but Koushik had insisted sleeping on the ground. She didn't blame him. Being cooped up on a sterile, metallic starship for a year and a half would probably make anyone want to be that close to actual ground. The feel of soft, squishy ground underneath her feet left Rhona feeling a tranquility she hadn't experienced for a long time.

Rhona place a hand on her lower back and arched it slightly. Still stiff from that rough landing, she thought. Their lifepod landing three days ago was much bumpier than she or Koushik had expected. They came to rest within a half mile of their designated landing point - a pretty good result for a craft that had few controls to speak of and was never designed for atmospheric entry. But in their haste to depart Ganymede, they had failed to work out all the quirks of Chiron's heavier gravity and their bodies had paid a price for it when they struck the surface.

Rhona suddenly began to smile as an intense euphoria overcame her. Then the smile blossomed into a uncontrollable spate of giggling. She dropped her head back as her mind swam in dizziness, eyes drooping and smile ever present. Then, in a fleeting moment of clarity, she realized what was happening.

_Too much nitrogen. Have to put my mask back on. _

She dropped the pear and both hands fumbled to reapply her breathing mask. Kneeling down to steady herself, she took a half dozen deep breaths and the narcosis quickly dissipated. Rhona slowly stood up again as her head cleared and her wits finally returned.

_A few more minutes of that and I would have died a happy woman._ She turned around to see Koushik sleeping peacefully in his leafy paradise, oblivious. _And a lot of help you would have been. _

Rhona continued her trek into the overgrown greenhouse forest. She occasionally ran a hand along the trunk of a tree or rubbed odd shaped leaves between her fingers, experiencing the texture. It was becoming more humid the further she ventured into the overgrowth but Rhona didn't mind it much. It was good to feel something other than merely comfortable as was life aboard _Ganymede. _

Rhona suddenly froze. She sensed something had changed. She slowly rotated in place focusing on everything around her, eyes darting to and fro. The forest appeared to be the same except that it felt more menacing. Rhona had the strange feeling it was growing as if to loom over her, creeping in as it did so. Rhona's logical mind deduced that, of course, the forest was still the same. Just moments ago she had been experiencing contentment. Why would the nature of the forest change in the blink of an eye? Still the feeling was there and Rhona found it impossible to shake. She took a step back.

She felt a warmth forming on her upper lip and a mild tickling sensation. She pulled the breathing mask from her face and looked down into it. A drop of blood dripped into the mask. Her blood.

_Oh, my God. What's happening?_ Anxiety began to overtake her.

A noise caused Rhona glance up. The forest was clearly moving now. She could see it. It was closing in on her - trying to devour her. _But why? What did I do? _

She spun around and began to run back toward the clearing where Koushik was sleeping. Except now there was no clearing. There was only more forest. And it was beginning to moan...a low, grating, primeval sound, otherworldly and menacing. Rhona's breathing became more rapid as she began to panic.

She tried to scream Koushik's name but her tongue shot from her mouth the moment she opened it. It quickly grew longer and longer, whipping about her head and around her body like a pressurized water hose. Rhona's eyes were now wide in crazed shock. She tried to grasp her tongue as it whipped around her but her hands had turned into heavy bloody stumps which began to swell in front of her eyes, pus intermittently squirting from them.

Rhona was completely out of her mind now. She fell to the ground writhing in agony as the skin on her face began to boil and fall away in chunks of mangled flesh. Her stomach began to swell as her internal organs cooked inside of her. The forest was now on top of her, the moans growing into a steady wail and then a high pitched shrieking which completely drowned out her own.


	16. XVI Lost

"I've looked all over, Captain. I simply cannot find her!" Koushik's voice was warbly and punctuated with occasional static but there was no mistaking his distress. They had only gotten surface-to-ship voice communication working the day before, a minor miracle that was completely overshadowed by the sobering conversation taking place now.

"Now is not the time to panic, Dr. Mitra." Ramirez's face was stern, his voice low and steady. " I need you clear-headed and thinking. Now, when was the last time you saw her?"

Due to the makeshift method of their communication there was a time delay of several seconds before Koushik's answer reached Ramirez. "It was about five hours ago. Dr. McKibben and I had been trying to activate the monitoring computers to this greenhouse for several hours. We were unsuccessful. We finally decided to call it a day, get some sleep, and try again tomorrow. We had been sleeping in shifts, three hours at a time. It was supposed to be for mutual protection, though I honestly cannot say from what. We haven't seen any evidence of -"

"Never mind that, doctor." Ramirez interrupted, though the time delay meant that Koushik was still talking through his reply. "Let's try to focus on Dr. McKibben, please?" At that moment, officers Jeremy, Cook, and Emmons entered Ramirez's quarters their faces grave with concern. Ramirez didn't meet their gaze but instead held up a hand to forstall any questions as he concentrated on his conversation with Koushik.

After a pause, Koushik's warbling transmission continued. "Yes, of course, Captain. My apologies. I believe Dr. McKibben may have entered the greenhouse overgrowth while I slept. I don't know how long she remained in there but I doubt it was very long."

"And how would you know that?" Ramirez asked.

"Because I discovered freshly eaten fruit discarded about forty meters or so inside the forest. A pear, to be exact." Ramirez blinked at Koushik's statement. Rhona hated pears. It was the only fruit she refused to eat.

"I went into the overgrowth as deep as I dared," Koushik continued. "It's much too thick, Captain, and too dark. I could only proceed about eighty meters before I was forced to turn back."

Koushik stopped to give Ramirez time for a reply. Conversing in this way was becoming maddening. "Is there any possibility she could be in another part of the base? Perhaps a shaft or crawl space she could have entered and gotten trapped inside of?"

"Impossible, Captain. We have limited our explorations to the greenhouse and its environs. There are no lower levels to speak of, no mines or shafts of any type. Our probes have confirmed it. Everything is above ground here. I cannot say that about the main base itself but, as stated, we have not ventured that far."

Callum waved his arm to get Ramirez's attention. When he looked up Callum was mouthing the word "oxygen". Ramirez nodded then spoke into the transmitter. "Doctor, is it possible Dr. McKibben could have run out of oxygen? Either in the forest or outside the greenhouse?"

"I don't believe so, Captain. Dr. McKibben was very strict with our oxygen usage. We've kept our exertions to a minimum so as to not use up our supplies faster. According to our canister count, Dr. McKibben took an oxygen tank and a breathing mask with her but I have been unable to find any trace of them. And I see no reason why she would purposely discard her oxygen. Breathing Chiron's atmosphere will cause benign side effects after about ten minutes. But a half an hour of exposure will lead to certain death. If Dr. McKibben is to be found her oxygen canister will surely be with her."

"She'll be found, doctor. I can promise you that. Because we're not leaving this system until we do."

"I will keep looking for her, Captain. I'm convinced she hasn't gone far. It's simply not possible."

Ramirez nodded but part of him was still not convinced. "I want updates every hour even if you haven't found anything."

"Understood, Captain. Mitra out."

Ramirez broke the link, then rested his arms and head on the desk for a while. The three officers stood in silence watching their captain with a mixture of empathy and impatience. Eventually Ramirez raised his head from the desk refusing to look them in the eye.

"I want every probe on Chiron sent to Dr. Mitra's location," he said in a grave voice. "All of them. Now."

The officers stirred uncomfortably for a moment, each man not wanting to be the one to remind the captain that he was commiting a violation of mission guidelines.

Emmons was the first one to speak. He cleared his throat before beginning. "Captain, with all respects, is it wise to send _all_ the probes to that location? In my opinion, sir, we could easily do the job with half that number."

Ramirez continued to stare off into the distance during his answer. "I don't want half that number. I want them all in that location."

Emmons opened his mouth to speak again but hesitated. He nervously glanced to his right, eyes imploring one of the other officers to jump in and contribute.

"Sir," Callum chimed in, "six of our probes aren't anywhere close to Koushik's location. They aren't even on the same continent."

"Then they need to get moving."

Jeremy carefully spoke next, ever mindful of his role in the present circumstances. "Sir, as an engineer I feel its my duty to remind you those probes aren't designed for that kinda trip. They got a hundred kilometer operational radius from their point of touchdown at best. Some of those probes would have t'cross several hundred kilometers of open water to get there." Ramirez inclined his head and set his jaw in reply. He remained silent, his features becoming darker.

Jeremy swallowed before continuing. "The probes only have a six hour charge, and they can't recharge while they're running. If they can't make the trip in six hours, then they'll lose power and drop into the sea."

Ramirez slowly turned a steely gaze toward the officers as he spoke. "I don't care if only one makes it across I want them all moving to the main continent. And I wanted them moving two minutes ago."

The officers continued to stand before their captain in an uneasy silence. They wanted to find Dr. McKibben as much as Ramirez. McKibben's and Koushik's unauthorized trip to the surface was a cross only they were going to bear. But Ramirez's decision to usurp the entire purpose of the probe mission would not only blacken his record it could also stain those of the officers that worked under him.

"Sir," Emmons said, his voice becoming serious, "we can execute your order effectively with the probes on the main continent. There is no need to jeapordize the safety of the other six. If we lose them, _which we most likely will_," - he paused a moment for emphasis - "then we will have sacrificed six incredibly expensive pieces of hardware for no purpose at all."

Ramirez slammed both of his hands down on the desk with such force the officers felt a slight shockwave of air on their faces. Ramirez rose slowly from his chair like an angry tidal wave ready to swamp them all, glowering at all three men. "One of our crew has gone missing and you tell me there is no purpose for such a decision? How about you communicate your opinion to Dr. McKibben's family when we get back and see if they agree with your sentiments, Officer Emmons. Personally, I would wonder until the day I die why _Ganymede_'s captain didn't crash land his whole damn ship on the surface to try and get her back."

"Her family knew the risks, sir." Emmons said evenly. "All of our families do."

Ramirez exhaled slowly before answering, slowly shaking his hanging head. "This whole mission went off the rails the moment Dr. Mitra and Officer Cook stumbled upon that _Unity_ anomaly. As far as I'm concerned, we began flying by the seat of our pants at that point. We've gotten more out of this mission than any of us ever thought we'd get, more than Command thought we would get, more than our _entire race_ thought we would get."

He looked up at the officers. "We're done researching. Our mission has been accomplished. Those probes have done their job for king and country and now they're going to help us find an errant crewman. _All_ the probes. And don't any of you think I wouldn't do the same thing if one of you were lost down there."

He stared at all three men a moment before gently sitting back down in his chair. "Let's be frank, gentlemen. Most of us volunteered for this mission because we knew it could very well be our last one. After this trip, we could retire and live our lives any way we wanted. Well, we've got that and then some."

Ramirez glanced away, sullen. "Besides, Command has already informed me of my mandatory retirement after I get back. My career is basically over." He managed a chuckle. "I guess Garland thinks he's doing me a favor." He looked back at the officers to judge their reactions.

The officers were trading quick glances at one another. This was the first they had heard of it. Ramirez felt the tiniest bit of gratitude as he watched the play of their dumbfounded expressions. _They didn't want to see the "old man" go out like that._ His officers would never know, however, his revelation was a tactical strike designed to silence any more grumbling about his decision.

"So let's get those probes moving, gentlemen," he finished. "Dismissed."

All three men saluted and began walking out, still reeling from the news. Emmons and Jeremy quickly exited but Callum stopped before the door. He took a step back and touched the door control, closing it. He turned and walked purposefully back to stand before Ramirez, arms rigidly at his side. "Permission to speak, sir."

Ramirez leaned back. "Granted."

Callum relaxed and his folded his hands behind his back taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "Sir, I just wanted you to know - I just wanted to say that I have complete faith in Koushik. He won't stop looking for Dr. McKibben. He's one of the most tenacious men I've ever met. Once he gets to work on a problem he doesn't stop until he has the answer. You couldn't have a better person looking for her down there than he."

Ramirez smiled. "Thank you. Dr. Mitra is nothing if not inspiring." He glanced down a moment. "Off the record, Callum, what do you think happened down there? To Dr. McKibben?"

Callum made a face and shook his head. "I honestly can't say. Dr. McKibben was right about one thing though. There are still a lot of things we don't know about Chiron and one of those unknowns is probably the reason she disappeared."


	17. XVII Interrogation

**Chiron **

**Thirty hours later **

_Everything's blurry. What's going on? God, my head is killing me! Like a million ants gnawing at my brain. What is that light? Am I still in the forest? Oh, dear God, I hope not! My arms. I can't move my arms! _

Seared in her mind were images of her ravaged and decaying body writhing on the ground. Her whole being felt like it was on fire, her mind a shambles as it fought for some semblance of order. Her breathing was ragged and erratic.

Rhona was completely unaware of the lone figure standing against the far wall next to a small doorway, nor did she hear him speak in low tones to the device on his wrist. She could barely see. She couldn't hear anything except a high pitched whining. She had no bearings at all. She didn't even know if she were standing or lying down. Now all she felt was an acute grogginess and a constant, throbbing pain in her head.

In her next moment of recognition (it could have been minutes or hours later) she was able to conclude she was lying down. The platform was hard even though there was some type of thin cushioning underneath her. She realized she couldn't move her arms because they were bound as were her legs. There was a blinding light situated directly above her whose glare caused her to squint. Her deep, throbbing headache subsided to replaced by a annoying tingling sensation.

She glanced to her left and a wave of nausea quickly overcame her. She coughed roughly as she fought to keep from vomiting. The bright light was drowning out the features of the room but by the echo created from her coughing Rhona concluded the room was not a very large one. She managed to catch a glimpse of her bound hands in the haze and was oddly surprised to find them both perfectly fine.

She lay back for what she perceived to be several minutes letting the vertigo dissipate becoming more and more alert as time passed. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply and slowly, letting the oxygen clear her...

Rhona's eyes bolted open. _Oxygen. My breathing mask!_

She instinctively tried to jump from the table but the restraints kept her firmly pinned in place. The adrenaline rush immediately unclouded her mind and she strained her neck to look around, frantically searching for the mask she needed to survive.

It was then she noticed two standing figures to her right about three feet from her. The bright light hanging down low over the table lit only their midsection, the faces masked in the darkness above. One pair of crossed hands rested on what looked like green hued robes. Next to them were another pair of hands wrapped around what looked like a rifle of a design she had never seen before. She noticed the weapon had quickly swiveled to point directly at her when she tried to jump from the table.

Rhona slowly laid her head back eyes never leaving the weapon. She raised her bound hands in supplication. "Please, whoever you are, I need a breathing mask or I will die."

Silence. She let out a nervous sigh. "My name is Dr. Rhona McKibben, number SCS-dash-1314-romeo-mike. I am the chief science officer of the research vessel Ganymede. I am on a -"

She immediately clamped her mouth shut, afraid to give out too much information. A fleeting thought of how very disappointed Captain Ramirez would be with her when he heard about it crossed her mind.

The silence continued. Rhona's face hardened. "If this is an interrogation, then you'll get nothing else from me until I see a breathing mask placed on my face," she said in a firm but slightly quivering voice. "If not, then I'll die laughing while you watch."

Continued silence but she noticed the robed hands turn toward those holding the rifle as if the two were looking at one another. Rhona set her jaw defiantly.

"You have no need for a breathing mask here," a deep male voice said. "The air is oxygenated."

Rhona blinked in confusion. She took a few more tentative breaths as if testing the air for nitrogen which, of course, there was no way to do by simply breathing. But Rhona concluded that she had most likely been in this position for quite a while, the stiffness of her body evidence she had lay in this position for a long time.

"Where is 'here' exact-"

"We ask the questions," the deep voice interrupted. "Which faction do you represent? Peacekeeper? Morganite?"

"Faction?" Rhona squinted in confusion for a moment, then her eyes widened with a realization. This two people must be Chiron survivors. But why were they here? Why didn't they leave with the others? And why didn't _Ganymede_ detect any human life signs from orbit?

"I'm not from any faction." She exhaled slowly wondering how they would react to the bombshell she was about to drop. "I'm from Earth."

For a long moment there was no movement from either of her captors. Then she noticed the rifleman's hands begin to twitch along with her interrogator. Both men were chuckling.

"And I am Santiago's love child," the interrogator responded in a voice that hinted at a smile. "I hope that wasn't the best story your spy trainers could come up with – doctor."

"I'm no spy," Rhona said harshly. "I'm telling you the truth. I _am_ from Earth. I am from the same planet that your faction leaders hail from as well as your ancestors."

Neither of the two men moved, remaining silent. Rhona was unsure if she had given them something to think about or if they were merely amusing her, allowing her to tell the fantastic little tale they believed these spy trainers had cooked up for her.

Rhona decided she had nothing to lose. If she were to be tortured or killed by her captors then she would die with the truth on her lips. "My ship, _Ganymede_, is orbiting Chiron as we speak. We left Earth nearly two years ago to follow up on the _Unity_ mission of 2060. We heard nothing from you for decades and, to be honest, most of my crew did not expect to find any trace of you at all. But we did. These settlements you created...we never expected to see anything like it."

"Earth no longer exists," the interrogator said unconvinced. "Humanity was in the throes of destroying itself decades before the _Unity_ mission. There is no possible way they could have survived. But, please, continue this sensational story."

Rhona sighed. "I know this is hard to believe. And your are right in one respect. We _were_ destroying ourselves. Life was becoming nearly unbearable over most of the planet. So many awful things were happening it tested humanity's ability to cope."

"All well documented in the old Earth archives," the interrogator said. "All factions had access to them. I'm sure your handlers did as well." He exhaled sharply. "I'm sure you are now going to tell us some predicatble story of the massive man-made holocaust that followed in _Unity_'s wake, yes?"

"There was a holocaust but maybe not quite what you would expect." Rhona's eyes briefly took on a distant look. "One of the philosphers of that time wrote 'Earth knows more about itself than any man and cannot be contained'."

"Sounds like a Gaian," chuckled the rifleman.

Rhona simply nodded. "From what we've learned of Chiron's factions I would have to agree. To this day we still don't know exactly what exactly triggered it or even if..."

Rhona abruptly stopped speaking and this time she refused to go on any further. She closed her eyes, adjusting herself on the table as if to make herself more comfortable. "But what do you care?" she said dismissively. "You believe me to be a spy so why should I continue to amuse you with stories you won't believe anyway? Do with me what you will. If you wish to relish in your close-minded ignorance that's your choice." Rhona smugly hoped the rifleman was thinking she sounded like a Spartan now.

"Do you speak for your colleague Dr....Mitra, I believe?" the interrogator said after a brief pause. "Does he share your beliefs?"

Rhona's heart skipped a beat but she quickly forced a smile, hoping the men didn't notice the fleeting change in her demeanor. "He would tell you the same story I did. Or the one I would have told you had you been willing to listen. We _spies_ have to stick together." She said the word "spies" with penetrating sarcasm.

"Who says we haven't already interrogated him as well?"

"Because you wouldn't be asking me to elaborate on Earth history if you had," she answered curtly. "Dr. Mitra has a problem with keeping his mouth shut. If you were holding him captive you would know that."

"Perhaps we are merely comparing his story to yours?" he shot back.

"Let's just put her in the punishment sphere and get it over with!" snarled the rifleman.

Rhona slightly opened one eye. The rifleman was gripping his weapon even tighter now, the bones in his hands clearly defined as the skin around them became taught. She noticed the interrogator lift a hand silencing the rifleman. No one said anything for several moments. The interrogator lightly tapped the fingers of his crossed hands as if in thought. Lifting a sleeve on his robe, he turned and walked a few paces away from the table. Rhona glimpsed some sort of device latched on the man's wrist. He spoke quietly into the device, conversing with someone on the other end.

A couple of minutes later another person entered the room, walked around Rhona's bound body silently while waving some sort of hand held device, then quickly returned to the interrogator with the results. "She seems clean," a female voice. She handed him a small cylindrical object then quickly left the room. The interrogator walked back to the table and Rhona could clearly see the implement in his hand, a kind of curved syringe. She blinked nervously as she stared at it.

"I've arranged a little test that _may_ prove your story," the interrogator said. "We can't have you transmitting any visuals of our trip so I will have to sedate you."

Before Rhona could utter a word in protest, the device had been pressed to her neck then a loud click as the sedative was shot into her artery. A few seconds later Rhona was once again floating through her subconscious mind though without the horrible images that accompanied her first trip.

Before she went under Rhona thought she heard the rifleman laughing, a sound hissing with pleasure.


	18. XVIII Little Soldier 1 of 2

**2219.7.9 **

**Research Vessel _Ganymede _**

**Day 645 **

**(12 hours later)**

"Commander, Probe Seven just went black," Emmons said, his voice hard. "That's the _second_ one we've lost."

Ramirez was slightly ruffled by Emmons' last comment. It was unnecessary. He knew what the probe mortality count was perfectly well. He decided to ignore the wisecrack this time. "That one was one the two probes on the western continent, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Emmons answered flatly.

"At least one of them made it," Ramirez said in a low voice. At his work station on the command bridge Emmons rolled his eyes in irritation.

There were now fifteen probes on the main continent, including the one already with Dr. Mitra, all heading for his location. The three other surviving probes were still en route from the barren eastern continent and would not arrive for another ten hours - if they managed to survive the large dirt storms that had sprung up at the northern tip of the continent, directly in the path they would need to take before crossing the sea to the central continent.

Ramirez continued pacing the command bridge as he had done for the past six hours. Other than routine chatter between the bridge officers and the hourly reports from Koushik very little was said.

At his station, Emmons inwardly chafed while he watched invaluable probes being lost in a fruitless search that went completely against the pre-launch mission guidelines set down - guidelines that he had a large part in writing up. Yes, Garland and SciCom had ceased all probe operations weeks ago, but now Ramirez was using Command hardware - exorbitantly expensive and highly advanced hardware at that - in some personal, quasi-chivalrous quest to find a renegade scientist who had no business going down to Chiron in the first place. It troubled him to no end as he watched his immediate superior break the rules in order to save two other officers whose actions had broken those very same rules. Quite frankly it was pathetic.

* * * * * * * *

As he did every hour, Ramirez quickly walked back to his quarters for Dr. Mitra's update. There was still nothing to report. He and Ramirez would then go their separate ways until the next hour brought them together again. On and on the cycle continued, hour after hour.

Koushik had refused to sleep until he found some trace of the missing Dr. McKibben. Ramirez knew Koushik could go days without sleep but he had a feeling that guilt was playing a more prominent role in his determination. Dr. McKibben had gone missing while Koushik was snoozing on a pile of leaves and he felt it his duty to remain vigilant even to his personal detriment. After nearly two days Koushik had been unable to find any trace of Dr. McKibben other than the discarded pear. Not even a footprint.

Koushik had fashioned a makeshift machete from a piece of discarded metal he had found and was slowly hacking his way further into the Gaian greenhouse-forest where he strongly felt Dr. McKibben would be found. He exertions were using his remaining oxygen containers up at a much higher rate than Dr. McKibben would have approved but Koushik never gave it so much as a thought. He would continue chipping away through this overgrowth until Ganymede had no more lifepods left to send him.

* * * * * * * *

Rhona's eyes slowly opened to a blurry, distorted world. She found her thoughts distant and unfocused as if she had awaken from a long, deep sleep. There were no traces of ghastly nightmarish images upon her awakening, however, and she became alert much quicker this time. _They could have made it uncomfortable for me if they had wanted to. I wonder why they didn't? Then again, if these "tests" they are running don't reveal whatever it is they are looking for, then I'm sure they've saved the best for last. _

She was lying on a long table tilted back about thirty degrees from the vertical, her wrists and ankles once again tightly bound. The room was fairly small and rectangular in shape. Numerous medical devices and terminals of all shapes and sizes were placed neatly around the sterile space. A lab of some sort.

Rhona craned her neck to look down the length of the room then blinked with a start. Standing at the far end next to the only door in the room was the rifleman who so eagerly wanted to place her into this "punishment sphere" he mentioned. She knew it was the same person because of the the way he gripped his weapon and how he flexed his fingers. But what really surprised her was the youthful, almost boyish, face scowling back at her, quite a contrast to the strong, resolute voice she had heard earlier. His attempt to appear intimidating barely dented his soft features.

"So," Rhona exhaled. "We meet at last. What's your name?"

The rifleman stared stright ahead in grim silence, his flaring nostrils the only indication he had heard her. Rhona shrugged her eyebrows and looked around the room. _Idle chatter may soften that exterior_, she thought. "Some interesting equipment here. I think I can actually recognize some of it - not that different in appearance from what we have on Earth - nor in function, I suppose." She nodded in approval. "Quite intriguing."

A haughty sniff from the young rifleman was the only reply Rhona got. Clearly she was not going to get anywhere with this young man by chatting about laboratory utensils. She decided to stop talking to him for the moment, temporarily abandoning hope of culling some nugget of information from this Spartan-like adolescent...

A light went off in her head. _If this youngster is cast in the Spartan mold, or he fancies himself one, then he won't want to talk about mundane topics like laboratories or the gadgets that fill them. He'll want to talk about the gadgets of war, combat tactics, conflict, weapons..._

Rhona continued turning her head appearing to examine her surroundings. When she spoke again her voice was casual, as if she were merely talking to herself. "That weapon you used on me in the greenhouse was quite effective. Ghastly to be honest. I don't think I've ever experienced such intense terror in all my life." She made a point to not look at the young rifleman but nonchalantly worked her searching gaze toward his location. She noticed from her periphery that she may have gotten a reaction from him. She ignored it and pressed on in a low tone but loud enough for the rifleman to hear.

"I would assume it to be some sort of...psionic weapon? Yes, probably so. A psionic weapon that causes abject terror in the victim - ah! - a technology most likely based on Chiron's mindworms! I remember reading reports about the terror they wrought for several years after planetfall. Thousands of deaths. Waking nightmares so intense the victim would often literally tear themselves apart with their bare hands while the worms bore into them." She gently shook as if chilled. "Terrifying and effective."

The young rifleman mumbled something in an incoherent, reluctant tone. Rhona purposely did not answer for a few seconds, then spun her head toward him with an innocent, questioning expression. "I'm sorry...did you say something?"

"I said we only used a quarter of the total frequency on you." The words tumbled from his mouth in a rush but the young man kept his eyes rigidly forward, refusing to look at her.

Rhona slowly nodded her head in understanding and to mask any visual traces on her face regarding her success at cracking this young man's belligerent veneer. "You say that as one who has witnessed others reacting to this weapon the same way I did but at higher frequencies."

The young man remained rigid but his eyes narrowed as he spoke. "Spartans can withstand up to ninety percent of the total frequency." He blinked once. "The - other factions - could endure around fifty to sixty percent. If well trained."

"Interesting," Rhona said softly. _Interesting that this young Spartan grudgingly mentioned the capabilities of other factions. From what I have researched Spartans were loathe to give credit to any faction as related to fighting capabilities. Spartans thought themselves the only true warriors on Chiron._ "You must think me weak after observing my reaction to your psionic weapon."

A corner of the Spartan's mouth twitched, his eyes remaining cool and unreadable. "All spies are weaklings. They have no idea what constitutes a true soldier. They are trained vermin, sneaking into whatever place their gutless leaders tell them to go so those leaders can then come in and take by force what they believe is theirs. Spies are afraid to fight for what they believe in because they have no beliefs. They merely react to what they have been told. They have no honor."

Rhona, watching the youth speak, said nothing in reply. The words he had spoken did not faze him in the slightest. He did not twitch, or shudder, or raise his voice hysterically. He spoke the words clearly, confidently, as if they were the ultimate truth. Rhona thought she understood the Spartan mindset from what she had uncovered from Chiron's archives, but seeing it tangibly displayed in this young man had left her feeling somber, even a tad melancholy.

"And you continue to believe I am a spy," Rhona said evenly. She dropped her head. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you people - I am not a spy." She looked at the Spartan with steely eyes. "And just because some decide not to use conflict or battle as a first option it does not make them weak. Neither does it stain their honor. I would argue there is more honor in conflict resolution than in resorting to battle, or war, or whatever you want to label it."

For the first time the young Spartan looked at Rhona, his eyes cold and piercing. "Then you are not only a weakling but a fool. In battle, your enemy must be defeated, not entertained with meaningless platitudes. If battle is joined it must be to the end, not until it becomes inconvenient for the side that takes the most losses."

Rhona was becoming troubled by the the young Spartan's demeanor. She could clearly sense his animosity toward her, specifically what she represented. She and Commander Ramirez had spent many hours over the course of the _Ganymede_ mission hashing out the age old "peace-versus-war" discussion, but Ramirez had never once made Rhona feel like this. He had never been this rigid in his thinking. She decided to continue engaging this Spartan - to attempt to dialouge with him as she would with her commander - but deep down she felt it was a lost cause. With this Spartan, or with any Spartan, there seemed to be very little _quid pro quo. _

"Seeking peace is not meaningless," Rhona said in a clear voice. "Right-thinking leads to right-action and most conflicts are begun for misguided or wrong reasons."

The young Spartan sneered. "Do you bother to read Earth history, woman? It is a story of struggle and conflict. No hope or help whatsoever is accrued from those who are willing to roll over and die. Those that do deserve no pity. They should be allowed to die. It is the only way to ensure survival for the strong and worthy."

Rhona frowned. "And who gets to decide who is strong and worthy? You? The Spartans? By what criteria do you get to become both judge and jury?"

"It is the law of nature!" shouted the young Spartan. "It is survival of the fittest. I will not paint a word picture for you!"

Rhona's mouth hung open in disbelief, eyes beginning to glitter in anger at the imbecile that stood before her. "The law of nature?" Rhona said mockingly. "Your perverted notions of the actual law of nature is nothing more than a man made play on words by which men justify warring with one another! Statesmanship and diplomacy are just as effective, even moreso in most circumstances, than any weapon could ever be. Sound use of it is the basis for strong and true leadership!"

Anger had nearly reached critical mass in the Spartan as well. "And will your words protect you from the attacks of the armies of your sworn enemy? An enemy bathed in the strength of the trained warrior instead of the puerile diplomat?" The young Spartan spat on the ground as though casting out an impurity from his body. "Which of these strengths will prevail?"

Rhona let out a long breath, her eyes never leaving those of the Spartan. "In the short run, your way may prevail." The young Spartan straightened himself, his smug, boyish face awash in apparent victory. "But in the long run, _my_ way will prevail. Because when you have conquered all of your external enemies, real and imagined, and set yourselves up as rulers of your own destiny there will come a time when you will be compelled to seek out other enemies to battle. You will begin seeing enemies all around you, even within your own house - enemies that are not actually there."

Rhona leaned her head toward the Spartan and her voice became grave. "You will eventually tear yourselves apart from within until there is no one left to fight - until there are no more bogeymen found hiding in dark places - until there are no more dragons left to slay. Your glorious society will no longer exist because it refused to acknowledge the _real_ laws of nature and of reason - that human beings must strive for peace through co-existence. Otherwise human beings themselves will no longer exist. Not even the mighty Spartans."

The young Spartan's haughty demeanor disappeared in a flash. Rhona noticed the young man's grip had tightened on his rifle, the weapon's business end now pointing squarely at her. "The Spartans would survive," he growled. "They fight against injustice - against oppression and tyranny. They fight for their way of life and against anyone who dare take that from them. They are warriors and not the simple minded infants you describe them to be."

Rhona cast an aggravated, despairing glance at the ceiling, then looked back at the young man. "To a man, the Spartans may not be. But from talking with you their mindset truly is."

In the blink of an eye the young Spartan charged at Rhona screaming at the top of his lungs, weapon now raised in the air, poised to come smashing down on her head. Rhona caught a glimpse of the young man's face as he rushed toward her, his soft features grotesquely distorted by his wild eyes and gaping mouth, then she tightly shut her eyes and turned away preparing herself for the blow that was about to come. The sound of rushing blood in her ears helped drown out the cries of the charging Spartan.

At about the time Rhona expected her brain to be crushed by the rifle butt she heard a strong, loud voice exclaim " Holden! Stop!"


	19. XIX Little Soldier 2 of 2

_My apologies to those who are faithful readers of this story. The time between my updates has become longer due to my working a second job for the past few months. Rest assured, I am dedicated to this story and to its completion. Thank you for your patience, your understanding and your support._

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In a fraction of a second, the Spartan adjusted the downward momentum of his rifle and slammed the butt with powerful force mere inches from Rhona's turned head. He screamed in fury repeatedly hammering the rifle next to Rhona's head, the thin cushioning underneath her quickly torn away exposing the metal table itself becoming distorted and cratered. Rhona forced her head as far away from the crazed Spartan as she could, an occasional terrified whimper coming through as the Spartan hammered away, her eyes clamped shut so tightly that tears began to form.

Rhona heard the sound of running feet getting louder, then the voice of the interrogator say angrily, "That's enough, little soldier! Stand down! That is an order! She is not to be harmed, do you understand?" - then a rustling sound as the interrogator briefly fought to halt the young Spartan's death blows. Moments later the hammering ceased and it became quieter, save for the heavy breathing of both men; then the sound of loud footfalls marching away. Rhona, shaking in fear and rage, refused to open her eyes not wishing to see the Spartan soldier's face again and the unbridled hatred in his eyes.

She felt a hand gently touch her arm and the deep voice of the interrogator spoke. "It's all right. You are safe now."

Rhona slowly turned her head toward the man and reluctantly opened her eyes, a tear rolling down her cheek. She blinked quickly as she focused her vision, eyes darting back and forth as her mind continued to process what had just happened. When she finally fixated on the interrogator, she was momentarily taken aback. Staring back at her was a strong, humble but disfigured face which sported a criss-cross of scars large and small, the most predominant one running from the center of the forehead, over the right eye, and ending near the curve of the chin. The right eye was pale and useless in contrast to the sparkling, vibrant green left eye.

Rhona opened her quivering mouth causing a sudden gasp of air to leave her lungs unaware of having held her breath all this time. She took a moment then, in an agitated, panting voice she cried, "What kind of...madhouse...are you running here?! "

The interrogator flashed a brief sympathetic smile, his face still flushed from his struggle with Holden, the young Spartan. "I regret we have been less than hospitable to you. But we have our reasons." He straightened himself to his full height before continuing. "To answer your question, you are in an underground colony. This lab is just outside the confines of The Garden of Paradise, quite close to where we found you."

"You mean from where you abducted me," Rhona cooly replied.

The man nodded, the sympathetic smile appearing again. "Yes, you are correct. We did capture you using rather unpleasant methods and for that you have the council's most fervent apologies. But you are the first person we have seen in over a decade, apart from the citizens living here." He shrugged apologetically. "We were frightened by the implications of that."

Rhona shook her head sharply and held up a hand. "Okay, let's slow down a moment. You said something about - a council?"

"Yes, the Superior Council, of which I am a member. I am one of the four representatives of the Gaian faction." The man stopped and briefly looked down, chuckling. "Which reminds me I have not properly introduced myself. Forgive me. I am Amon Temes, Gaian councilman and administrator of quadrant twelve which includes the Garden of Paradise." Councilman Temes inclined his head in greeting.

"Yeah. Nice to meet you," Rhona replied in a skeptical tone. "I would attempt to shake your hand, but..." - she waved both of her bound hands for emphasis, tugging at the restraints. "I deduce from this sudden good will you people have finally accepted I am not a spy?"

Amon raised an eyebrow. "I have no doubts along with most of the council. But there are a few holdouts - mostly from the Hive faction - who desire more thorough testing before they will bend to majority ruling. Until the council is in full majority agreement, however..." - he gestured to Rhona's restraints. "But do not fear. They are in deliberations as we speak and a ruling will pass quickly. The Hive councilmen are merely making show for their constituents. They are much slower to trust than others."

"I know the feeling," Rhona said, leering at Amon. She indicated the door at the far end of the room with a nod of her head. "I hope your tyrant friend Holden is not one of your diplomats. He's not very good at it."

"No, he isn't," Amon answered in a discouraged tone. "And Holden is not a friend. He is my bodyguard. All council members have a Spartan trained protector accompany them on official business. More out of tradition than actual necessity." Amon paused and sighed. "Holden is a fresh graduate from the Spartan Hall of Discipline. He has - he has taken to his training quite eagerly. A little too eagerly, I'm afraid." Amon shook his head dejectedly. "It is an inevitable byproduct of the training regimen. The vast majority of graduates are able to cope and are much more - even handed, if you will."

Rhona sniffed in derision. "He's a true believer, that much is certain. The most dangerous kind." She gave Amon a serious look. "How could you allow such an institution to remain in existence? Spartan training is brutally harsh and violates nearly all tenets of human rights. Well, the human rights found on Earth at least."

Amon appraised Rhona for a moment before speaking. "Are you not a true believer yourself, doctor? You appear to be firmly planted on the side of compromise and, dare I say, peace at all costs." His voice dropped slightly while giving her a questioning glance. "Does that not also make you radical in your thinking?"

Rhona glanced away for a moment, slightly stung by the truthfulness of Amon's words. "Perhaps," she answered in a low tone, then looked up at him with a confident air. "Yes. Yes, I am a radical. I am a radical for decency, for life and for the betterment of humanity as a whole."

Amon nodded toward the door to the lab. "Does Holden not believe the same? In his own way, of course."

Rhona raised an eyebrow in surprise and replied in a mocking tone, "Well, sure...if your idea of bettering humanity is to destroy the parts of it you think aren't worthy."

Amon smiled widely. "But did you not just ask me why this colony allows such an institution to remain? Is that not your way of asking me 'why have you not destroyed it'?"

Rhona opened her mouth to reply but found she could not. On a personal level, Rhona abhorred what the Spartan's represented. But like it or not, it was their way of life. If she were absolutely true to her beliefs how could she not allow this society, built up around principles she was completely at odds with, to exist? Was that not hypocritical in some way?

"Chiron's human history is rife with factional conflicts," Rhona said not looking at Amon, the heat behind her previous words gone now. "The Spartans were the first to begin them and Chiron's history shows them to be involved in nearly all the others." She shook her head sadly, wondering why that alone was not enough reason to rid a society of Spartan influence. "It seems to me a negative way of thinking. If allowed to grow unchecked it will spread into other parts and impress it's negativity elsewhere."

Amon took a step toward Rhona and placed his hand on hers. She looked at him. Even through his scarred face she could see his gratification. "Exactly," he whispered. "You have effectively described what happened to us when we arrived at Chiron." Rhona frowned slightly, not comprehending.

"Don't you see?" he continued. "We were never supposed to be separated. We were never supposed to live apart from one another, our society fractured into factions as they were. When our people and leaders awoke to the crisis on _Unity_ they became dismayed and naturally began searching for leaders amongst themselves. The crisis on _Unity_ made people go against their instincts. They stopped looking at the larger picture and instead focused on an immediate threat. As the crisis mounted, it allowed key individuals to dictate policy for the masses. Leaders were chosen who were never supposed to be and they convinced many to follow them instead of the mission." Amon removed his hand from Rhona's, his face losing some of its relish. "When the escape pods landed all over Chiron instead of together as was intended, isolation cemented the group characteristics that ultimately became Chiron's seven factions."

Rhona nodded in understanding. "And since you all lived so far apart from one another, not knowing if any others had survived, these factional negative impulses were allowed to grow unchecked."

"Precisely," Amon agreed. "If we had been able to grow our new society together, there would have been more effort made to work together. No one desire would have taken hold in the manner it did. The Spartans could have most likely been contained. The Morganites undisciplined ravaging of Chiron could have been contained. The inflexibility of the Believers could have been softened somewhat if they had been allowed to live amongst us." Amon stopped speaking, pacing slowly back and forth in front of Rhona. She watched him for a time then he spoke with quiet conviction. "Given time, we may have even removed those factional differences and merged as one people as it should have been."

Amon noticed an ironic smile form of Rhona's face. "Did I say something humorous?" he queried.

Still smiling, Rhona answered, "No. I just find it intriguing that a self-proclaimed Gaian speaks like a Peacekeeper. From what I've learned, Pravin Lal desired the same things you speak of."

Amon nodded slowly in the manner of someone who didn't quite regard the comparison as anything significant. "His ideals were those of our Earth brethren who sent us here. We owed it to them to make the effort to not emulate the patterns that led them to make such a drastic decision. That is what we are doing on Chiron now and we are succeeding. Chiron is slowly becoming the haven it was supposed to be over a century ago."

Rhona remained absorbed in Amon's retelling of the small number of people who refused to leave Chiron with the others; how he leaders of the more representative factions allowed them to exercise their own free will and remain, but those ruled by authoritarian leaders were forced defect or simply hid until everyone had left, too many of them caught trying to escape and quickly executed.

Scattered all over the planet the "mutineers", as they called themselves, instinctively made their way to the fertile Gaian lands. They concluded, just as Rhona and Koushik had when selecting a landing site, "that was where the food was." Citizens from all seven factions, grown despondent nearly to a person over the fractious nature of their world and the constant conflict among their entrenched ideologies, found virtue in their kinship and attempted to right the wrongs of generations past. A small but self-sustaining society began to root in the elaborate underground living structures started by Hive engineers and enhanced with technologies and culture from other factions that had finally learned to work together on Chiron.

But despite their impressive achievements and apparent harmony, the factional remnants involved in humanity's rebirth on Chiron lived in constant anxiety that eventually one, indeed all, of the seven factions may come back to Chiron in an attempt to reconnect with or dominate their mutineer brethren. It was the main reason why they decided to exist underground, creating passive technologies to fool any type of detection device and furthering the belief that Chiron was barren of human life.

The greatest fear came from a return of the authoritarian Spartan or Hive factions which could muster powerful and vast military forces used to conquer or enslave. But neither did this new colony want any contact with even-handed factions such as the Peacekeepers or Gaians. Despite their political and social attractiveness they were still regarded as inflexible and unwilling, or incapable, of truly working together. This new egalitarian society on Chiron looked on their discordant parent factions as symbols of failure, useless cliques created by narrow-minded and petty opportunists who rejected everything humanity had expected of them in order to cloak themselves with power.

"And when you saw Dr. Mitra and myself land here, you figured your worst fears had come true," Rhona said.

A wry smile formed on Amon's face. "Actually, we knew of your presence before you began orbiting Chiron. We thought you were a scout ship of some type sent to spy on us."

Rhona smiled in reply. "Not quite." Her smile faded and she became serious. "If our arrival here caused your people alarm I apologize. It was not our intention."

Amon's features softened and he nodded. "Apology accepted, doctor." At that moment a chime was heard and Amon instinctively looked at his wrist device. He took a moment to ponder it, then smiled in satisfaction.

"An agreement has been reached in the council," he said. "You are to be freed."

"Thank God," Rhona sighed, feeling a wave of gratitude and relief flow through her at the news. Amon reached out and placed a hand underneath a corner of the restraining platform Rhona was lying on. A rapid beeping was heard and a second later her ankle and wrist restraints snapped open. She rubbed her wrists for a moment to encourage the blood flow then rather stiffly stepped onto the floor, Amon standing close by and offering his arm for support which she eventually took.

"Thank you," she said. She took a moment to look around the room before returning her gaze to Amon. "So, what do we do now?"

Amon made a gesture toward the door at the far end of the room. "We go to your colleague, Dr. Mitra and introduce ourselves before he completely makes a mess of our garden."


	20. XX A New World

Amon placed a hand on a lit panel control. A moment later the laboratory door opened and Rhona followed him down a hallway to another door with a guard seated to one side. The guard stood quickly, waved a device near Amon, then touched another control. Rhona reflexively brought a hand up to shield her eyes as sunlight streamed through the opening door.

She walked forward a few paces then stood fast just outside the doorway awestruck at what she was seeing, gazing about like a tourist on vacation in a strange land. There were buildings scattered everywhere - businesses, shops, a library, a theater. There was a manicured park area in the center of the district with a walking path, a small lake, a fountain, tall trees. There were small wheeled vehicles parked on sidewalks and others silently cruising in and out of side streets and parking areas. Rhona looked up and saw people in one building leaning out of windows from their living spaces watching the ever changing scenery play out on the streets below. And the din of hundreds of people talking, laughing, even singing; the smells of food being cooked in restaurants and homes; human life everywhere.

But Rhona was drawn more to what was above her rather than the bustle of humanity all around her. Up there were sky, clouds - and twin suns that radiated light and warmth. The sky of Chiron. _Are we still underground? _

As Rhona's mind filled with numerous questions, she focused on the ground again and began looking for Amon. He was no longer standing close to her but was conversing several yards away with his bodyguard Holden. She could not hear what Amon was saying though from the brusque, pointed gestures he was making along with occasional glances toward Rhona, it seemed Holden was probably being put in his place. Holden's eyes were downcast, his features grim, his jaw set. Occasionally he would sharply nod his head in acknowledgement but never said a word in reply to Amon's lecture. After a few minutes Amon walked over to Rhona, face flushed from his passionate rebuke. As he approached Rhona glanced at Holden behind him. Holden slowly looked up as Amon walked away and his eyes met Rhona's. His face was stern. He silently stared at her a few moments then sharply spun and walked away.

Rhona's eyes regarded Amon as he approached her. "I've ordered Holden to Council Intelligence Services to be properly debriefed on what has happened," he said in reply to Rhona's queried expression, "and then back to the Hall of Discipline to be reprimanded for his behavior." Surprisingly, Rhona felt the tiniest stab of pity for her would be attacker and briefly pondered just what a reprimand would entail.

But Holden's fate was quickly superceded by the activity around them. Rhona's squinting eyes once again looked skyward. Amon said, "It is a hologram. An elaborate network of them specifically."

Rhona looked at Amon, eyes wide in disbelief. She gazed up at the sky again, shaking her head and only muttering, "Incredible. I mean, it looks so – _real_."

Amon smiled as he too squinted at the holographic sky. "The University and Morganite team who thought up the plan would be pleased to hear it. It's been this way for so many years now we almost take it for granted. Then again, that is a complement to their creation - the naturalness of it."

"But what about rain and wind? Are they created as well?" Rhona asked.

"Oh, yes," Amon answered, "along with the appropriate thunder and lightning. The holocomputers program what we call 'predictable randomness'. Basically it keeps the weather patterns changing just enough to keep it interesting but still slightly unpredictable." He motioned toward the "sky" with a hand. "If you were to see this hologram turned off, you would see nothing but a stone surface riddled with miles of electronic and computer equipment of all shapes and sizes."

"What about the suns?" Rhona asked. "Are they holograms as well?"

"One of them is real," Amon replied. Rhona eyed him with incredulity. Amon chuckled, "No, it isn't a real star. It is a man-made one - a fusion reactor with the plasma held in place by a magnetic field to keep the heat in check. Otherwise, it would burn everything here. And this 'star' has the benefit of never collapsing as there is not enough mass for it to do so. The energy output should be constant for generations to come."

"Incredible" she whispered. Then another thought came to her. "Does it snow?"

Amon looked down, shrugging slightly. "No. Not exactly. The holo-emitters can create the illusion of snow but we have no way of creating the accumulation of it." He chuckled. "We ran an unannounced test of a holo-snow program a few years back, but it was not well received by the population. What is the use of snow if you cannot utilize it for recreation? Just _seeing_ it wasn't enough. It was only a small part of the full experience. University scientists are still working on it, though."

Rhona smirked. "So, you can create a star, an entire underground colony immune to all knows methods of detection, create in believable detail the weather patterns of the planet above, but you can't make it snow?"

Amon merely smiled, then pointed toward a not so far off building. "Please, this way."

As Amon and Rhona walked down the sidewalk together, Rhona noticed the trees in the makeshift park wave slightly; a moment later she felt a slight breeze on her face. She shot a look at Amon, delightful fascination on her face. Amon said nothing but smiled back at her in reply. All Rhona could do was look around and say "Incredible. Remarkable."

Continuing on, Rhona became aware of more and more people casting furtive glances at her as she walked by. In time, people began openly staring at her and excitedly chatting among themselves. _Appears the word has gotten out about me_, Rhona thought. That sparked another thought. "Councilman, may I ask how you were able to come to the conclusion that I was not an agent?"

Amon nodded in reply. "It was quite simple, really. A matter of analyzing blood samples and looking for specific DNA markers."

Rhona looked at Amon with a frown. "What DNA markers would indicate I was from Earth? I'm just as human as you."

The scars on Amon's face warped into weird patterns as he spoke. "We began to notice in the second generation of Planet born children subtle but definite mutations in their DNA, specifically the increase of nitrogen in the blood and organs. Though we lived in structures with plenty of breathable oxygen, it was never what you would term air tight. And growing our crops in Chiron soil means heavier concentrations of nitrogen in our food supply, more than would be present on Earth. Over the years and decades our bodies have slowly adjusted to this environment and absorbed certain aspects of it. The nitrogen mutations are completely benign and harmless but the markers are there. A Chiron born female your age would show definite signs of passive nitrogen mutation. Your DNA has none of these markers."

Rhona pursed her lips, nodding in understanding. "Fascinating," she whispered. "But, if I were indeed an agent from another faction, wouldn't it be possible to alter those markers as to make it appear I was Chiron born?"

Amon shook his head confidently. "Plausible, but technically impossible. Human genetic manipulation would leave telltale marks behind indicating they were unnatural. No matter how gifted the geneticists are, they could never design strands that would completely fool specific, intensive testing." Amon spread his hands. "We have come a long way in genetic sciences, but we cannot compete with nature. Nature has a head start in this race measured in eons. By comparison, mankind has barely gotten out of the starting gate."

Rhona continued nodding while listening to Amon's explanations, losing herself in the discussion. She harkened back to what her science team had researched so far regarding the widespread genetic manipulation by Chiron survivors. Working in the genetic field with such freedom was something almost non-existent on Earth, but craved by many scientists in the field. Rhona thought of the awesome possibilities such freedom could bring when they began colonization of Chiron.

Then Rhona briefly went cold as that reality hit home. _As far as Command knows this planet was devoid of human life when they began colonization planning. Will these people be willing to just pack up and move when Earth colonists begin coming here? Are they going to be willing to live in harmony with a society at odds with the one they have created?_

Amon tilted his head, pondering Rhona with questioning look. "Are you all right, doctor? You seemed distracted just now."

Rhona blinked and forced a quick smile in self defense. "Yes, I'm quite all right. A little groggy from the drug you gave me perhaps." She quietly cleared her throat and asked in a slightly tentative voice, "Councilman, how many people live in this colony?"

"Oh," he breathed out, "I would say a little over four thousand people, a third of them children."

Rhona dropped her eyes for a moment, her throat tightening. "That many?"

"Yes. We have very skilled citizens from the Hive who, as you obviously know by now, are experts at creating underground dwellings and thriving in them. Their expertise was critical in carving out spaces for our people. We were fortunate to have so many escape from Chairman Yang before the others left. As our population grows we should be able to expand as much as our citizens need."

Two young boys around ten years of age ran up to Rhona and Amon as they walked. "Are you from Earth?" one of the children blurted out to Rhona.

Rhona glanced at Amon who nodded in permission. "Yes, I am."

Both boys looked at each other with amazed expressions. "Wow! A real live alien!" the other child exclaimed. Mouths open and eyes wide, they sprinted off towards another crowd of children, yelling at them and animatedly pointing toward Rhona. Rhona could not hear most of the talk but she distinctly heard the words "Earth" and "alien".

As they made their way along the sidewalk toward the structure that allowed access to the surface, more and more people stepped forward to catch a glimpse of Rhona. No one seemed apprehensive or frightened of her. Instead they seemed genuinely curious, inquisitive - and welcoming. More than one person made a point to welcome Rhona to their colony. Others, smiling with affection, offered her God's blessing - Believers, most likely. A few were reserved but bowed slightly as they passed - probably Hive or Spartans. A smiling teenage girl with an orchid of some type in placed in her hair glided through the growing crowd and handed Rhona a small, hand picked bouquet of exquisite flowers and greenery. The arrangement radiated color as well as a mixture of pleasurable fragrances. Rhona could not suppress her smile and thanked the girl for the gift. _She is definitely a Gaian. _

Eventually the citizens' curiosity reached fever pitch and Rhona was pelted with questions: "Is Earth still the same? How many people are left? Is it possible to go back there? How destructive were the wars? How many died?" - one after the other the questions came. Amon was eventually forced to raise his hands and quiet the crowd. "I promise all your questions will be answered in due time, citizens. Please let us through. We must make contact with those on surface."

Rhona remained mostly silent for the duration, uncomfortable with such instant notoriety, somewhat frustrated that she was unable to answer questions that clearly required lengthy, thought out answers. But she kept up appearances, smiling, making eye contact with as many as possible, allowing the citizens to touch her and shake hands with her in order to prove to the citizens that she was indeed human, just like all of them.

As she and Amon reached the entrance to the structure that would lead them to the Garden of Paradise, Rhona stopped. She reached out to Amon, halting him. They looked at one another for a brief moment then Rhona turned to address the crowd that had formed. She nervously cleared her throat, then spoke.

"Citizens of - uh - this colony," she began. A few quietly laughed at Rhona's hesitation. Rhona also smiled at her awkwardness. "I just wanted to tell all of you that what you have created here is - well, it is beyond words, quite frankly." Murmurs of approval and many smiles broke out in the crowd. "As you all know by now, I am from Earth. But also know that while I was born there, you are all part of her as well." Quiet now, and stoic expressions. Had she crossed the line with that statement? It stood to reason these people had become so independent, had prospered as a civilization so far from their original homeworld, they would have easily disregarded any connection to Earth. She decided to press on.

"I know that over one hundred sixty human years and millions of light years separate our worlds. But we share something far more fundamental, something that time and distance will never displace. Just as many of you look upon me as evidence of Earth's will to survive - an ambassador of sorts - so I, as a representative of Earth, look at all of you thriving on this world in exactly the same way. I see in all of you the resiliency of humanity that strengthens our will to overcome hardship and survive. We did it on Earth over the course of many years. You - all of you in this colony - have done exactly the same. We have lived different histories but we are all survivors. And that, more than anything else, not only makes you a part of us but makes us a part of you." She bowed her head in reverence and respect to the quieted crowd. "Thank you all."

A smattering of applause began which quickly became louder. Then hoots of approval. Lavish blessings and well-wishes poured from the crowd as Rhona and Amon entered the structure and boarded the large freight lift that would take them to the surface. They were both silent as they entered, Rhona awash in the appreciation and affection the citizens of this colony had showered on her; Amon, occasionally appraising Rhona with that ever-present slight smile as the lift ascended, was quiet for - some other reason. And when Rhona let her high sprits resume normal levels again she began to sense it. She turned and looked at him, her expression dull.

"I became aware of something when you were making your speech," Amon replied to the question Rhona never asked. "Earth - your people - are coming here, aren't they."

Rhona tried to hold her expression but failed. "Yes, we are," she said quietly.

Amon looked away and focused on blank lift door in front of him. The subtle smile than Amon wore was still there but Rhona noticed for the first time his facial muscles tense. Amon's mind worked to process what Rhona had confirmed to him. After a time he began nodding grimly.

"This could be - quite difficult," he said.


	21. 21 Perth

The lift transporting Wesley Garland to the main conference room thirty stories up seemed to run much faster than usual on this particular day. Typical. Nothing like a crisis to alter the flow of time. And the _Ganymede _mission had been sprinting from one crisis to another lately with Wesley doing everything he could to placate SciCom members. Most were now becoming extremely concerned about the unauthorized actions Commander Ramirez and his officers had been taking over the past several days. A handful of committee members were outright angry, going so far as to suggest Wesley resign his post so the committee could decide on a new mission commander.

But Wesley still had enough prestige to keep the naysayer numbers small. And his most ardent detractors dare not leak their disaffection to the media for fear of a prodigious backlash not only from the majority of committee members but the global public as well. Right now, there was zero tolerance for those who intended on upsetting the apple cart by airing out petty differences. For the moment, Wesley and the committee he led could do no wrong and everyone wanted to keep it that way.

Wesley casually peered over the railing of the glass encased lift as it ascended quickly along a recessed groove in the side of the building. The island of Perth was covered in skyscrapers, most of western Australia now forever drowned in the aftermath of the Great Calamity of the late twenty-first century. The beach line seemed to butt against the edge of the building from this height though it was merely an optical illusion. The massive geologic shift that allowed the old city of Perth to survive as an island after extensive flooding along Australia's coastlines was an interesting phenomenon that geologists continued to make documentary vids about even to this day.

The lift chimed its destination arrival and Wesley walked out of the lift with a heavy sigh. He vaguely noticed someone in his periphery stand and begin walking toward him. Wesley cast a furtive glance toward the figure, then stopped in recognition. It was Joseph Middleton, his executive assistant and long time friend.

"Joseph!" Wesley said with a mixture of affection and puzzlement. "What are you doing here?"

Joseph's outstretched arm connected with Wesley's and both men vigorously shook hands. Joseph's wide, tight smile divided a head with a large chin and even larger forehead, the eyes, nose and mouth occupying a small sliver of space in the center of his wide canvas of a face. "Good to see you, Wes. In person this time."

"Well, this is a surprise," Wesley said. "You know you could have attended this meeting from Liberton. Why go to all the trouble of coming here?"

Joseph looked down and shook his head in mock dejection. "Wes, do you know how hard it's going to be to get a seat at the Australian Open next year? Bloody Aussies still haven't figured out we're in the damned twenty-third century. You can't just send 'em a holo - no, you've got to transact face to face - especially with the big money I'm shelling out for those premium seats." He pointed a finger at Wesley, eyes squinting with conviction. "Killian's gonna take the whole thing next year, mark my words. Did you see him in that fifth set tie break of the finals a few weeks back? Killian had that bleedin' Cossack against the ropes until his lost his serve."

Wesley chuckled. "Uh-huh. You want to tell me another one?"

A corner of Joseph's mouth flicked upward then he spoke in graver tones. "Well, the real truth is the soon-to-be ex-wife wanted me out of Edinburgh for a while. Apparently I've never been a very good listener."

"Hmm. She actually said that?"

"Well, how would I know, Wes? I can't stop arguing with her long enough to find out!"

Wesley shook his head and snickered. "Well, that excuse is a little more believable. But I know you better than that, Joe. You've been playing this game with Aileene for nearly fifteen years and neither one of you has budged. And my instincts say neither of you ever will."

"Yeah, yeah." Joseph looked away for a moment and his face softened with affection. "She's a spirited lass, that one. I really can't stand her sometimes."

"Something tells me she'd say the same thing about you."

Wesley slapped his old friend on the shoulder, steering him toward the conference room down the hall. "And now that we've danced around it long enough, you want to tell me what you're _really_ doing here?"

Joseph put his head down as they slowly walked, the hallway empty of people except for them. "I thought you might need some help today. Someone to back your play. Just attending this meeting from my office at home didn't seem right, Wes. I felt I needed to be here personally, that's all."

Wesley looked at Joseph with a furrowed brow. "I see. Well, I appreciate that, Joe."

Joseph nodded his head in acknowledgement but never smiled, never looked up at Wesley. They took a few more steps in silence as Wesley waited for Joe to elaborate. When he didn't, Wesley prodded him with "C'mon Joe, if there's something else bothering you, let me know. You know I hate having to mine your brain for information. It makes me feel like I'm violating you somehow."

Joseph stopped walking. He turned and faced Wesley but his eyes searched around the room nervously as he battled some inner unpleasantness. Wesley observed his friend's turmoil and became concerned. Finally, he gently laid a hand on Joseph's shoulder. "You can tell me, Joe," Wesley said quietly. "What is it?"

It was sufficient to get Joseph relaxed enough to focus on Wesley. Joseph breathed out then motioned Wesley to walk over to the far wall, opposite the conference room. Joseph huddled in close to Wesley and spoke in tones just above a whisper. "I've learned that one of _Ganymede_'s officers is making a case for Ramirez to be relieved of command."

Wesley looked at Joseph, stunned. "What? Relieved of...where the hell did you hear - "

"I'm not going to tell you that so I would appreciate you not asking me!" Joseph roughly whispered through clenched teeth. Wesley clamped his mouth shut in compliance but his face continued to radiate shock. He said nothing for a few moments as he refocused his thoughts.

"Which officer is making the case?" Wesley asked.

"I don't know," Joseph muttered. He saw the disbelief flash across Wesley's face, then added, "I'm telling you the truth, Wes! I don't know which one it is. Hell, it could be all of 'em for all I know. You can't exactly blame them after all that's happened lately!"

Now Wesley's demeanor went cool. "Ramirez is adapting to a situation thrust upon him to the best of his abilities. With his limited resources, he is still taking quick and decisive action, Jospeh."

"Wes, he's throwing probes around on the surface like they're soccer balls."

Wesley shrugged nonchalantly. "The probe mission is over. May as well put them to good use."

Jospeh gave his friend a beleagured look. "Don't play coy with me, Wes. You signed off on the order to end probe operations. And if you'd bothered to read the fine print it stipulated leaving them exactly where they were so they could be retrieved at a later date. Intact. Undamaged."

Wesley seemed to be unconcerned. "His methods may be questionable but there will be plenty of time to hack that apart post-mission."

An aggravated Joseph rubbed a hand over his face before responding. "I know Ramirez is a good commander, Wes, but you're not understanding me. Everyone knows you two have a history. You guys graduated the from same officer candidate school. He's served under you with distinction at least a dozen times over the years. You pushed harder than anyone on the committee to get him assigned as Ganymede commander."

"He's good at his job," Wesley interjected. "That's all the motivation I needed."

"In a purely military setting, that's true! But this whole operation isn't purely military, Wes." Joseph gestured toward the conference room. "You're also dealing with people from Science and Research in there and from what I've seen over the years most SCIRES blokes, with a few exceptions, look on the military as a necessary cross to bear. They're scientists first and soldiers last, and I mean _dead_ last."

Wesley knew Joseph had a point. It would have been much easier to simply have one organization running the show, but neither the military nor SCIRES had been quick to approve the _Ganymede_ mission at first. It took over a year of backroom wrangling, cajoling, and influence peddling to finally decide how both would share in the funding. Since the mission would be one of research, SCIRES would have autonomy in deciding what they needed for the mission while the military farmed out contracts for ship design and construction according to those needs. Thanks to the powerful lobbying influence SCIRES had in the global government they were able to crew the _Ganymede_ with a larger proportion of scientists which inwardly grated military sensibilities. Military representatives rarely questioned a mandate from their own upper echelon, but they had found heeding the wishes and whims of a sub-branch of the military filled with work-a-day warriors and eggheads a little vexing. Career officers had their own special derogatory word for SCIRES reservists - chocos. It was slang the old Australian military had used over a century ago to describe their reservists. They were referred to as "chocos" because, like chocolate, they would melt in the heat of battle.

But what SCIRES lacked on the sharper end of the military stick they made up for in bureaucratic numbers. And while most of their members had not lost faith in Wesley's directorship yet, he knew that if - or when - the time did come they would likely be the first to fold.

Wesley stole a glance at his watch. Only a few minutes left to prepare. He held his chin to his chest for a moment, then looked at Joseph. "Against my better judgement, I've already agreed to Command's decision to retire Ramirez when he returns. Hell, I'm still trying to figure that one out. But if I'm pressured to relieve him of command while he's still in the field..."

Joseph gave him a cautionary, sidelong glance. "Wes, you'd better not go in there and spill what I've-"

Wesley held up a hand and stopped his friend in mid-sentence. "I'm not going to tip anyone off, Joe. Your inside information is safe with me. And I appreciate you trusting me with it."

Joseph gave Wesley a slight smile. "Despite _my_ better judgement, I still consider you a good friend." He gave Wesley an encouraging look. "Your head's in the right place, Wes. Don't let them undermine you without a fight."

"I don't intend to," Wesley answered with a sly grin. "I don't care if I am turning into another note passing bureaucrat."

Joseph didn't say anything as Welsey turned and led the way to the conference room. Wesley may have meant that last statement as a bit of light humor, but Joseph knew better. He knew his old friend was having a harder time adjusting to the political side of his job than he let on. That was another reason Joseph felt the need to come here in person, though Wesley would never know that.

They both walked to the conference room door, stood still for a moment as unseen sensors scanned everything down to their blood type, then a small light on the side of the door lit green. Wesley and Joseph briefly looked at each other before entering, both men summoning some inner fortitude that would steel them for the long day ahead. Then Wesley touched the green light and the door hissed open.


End file.
